Hangin' With Haskin : Secretariat

Sham Rocks

Blood-Horse Staff — Thu, 09 Jul 2009 16:53:00 GMT

Lucien Laurin, wearing a bright burgundy sport jacket, bent down to tighten the girth on Secretariat, and then placed the colt’s familiar blue and white checked blinkers on his head. Big Red stood motionless on the Pimlico grass course saddling area staring straight ahead, his muscle lines rippling and his golden chestnut coat as radiant as ever.

Standing only a foot away, I knew this was a once-in-a-lifetime photo opportunity, so I reached for my camera and quickly got the shot before the horse moved. Just as I clicked the shutter, Big Red, hearing the sound that had become so familiar to him, turned his head and looked at me, as if to say, “Here’s a better shot.” I clicked again, and as it turned out, he was right. My second photo of Secretariat staring right at me through his blinkers remains one of the most special shots I’ve ever taken.

To be that close to Secretariat and see him in all his splendor was as good as it gets. I then turned around to check out the other horses being saddled, and there before me was a vision as breathtaking as Secretariat.

This horse, however, was dark seal brown in color, with a coat that glistened like burnished copper. Like Big Red, he was big and powerful with an air of nobility about him. But he was more refined, like a chiseled sculpture. The horse was Sham, and having only seen him in the flesh from the grandstand in the Wood Memorial, I had no idea what a magnificent creature he was. He was an athlete in the purest sense. That image of Sham in the Pimlico saddling area remains as indelible today as it did 36 years ago. I still have to wonder if two more spectacular-looking colts ever stood on the same track together.

Last year, I paid tribute to Secretariat on this blog on his 35th anniversary. Now it is Sham’s turn.

It is said that a warrior’s greatness is measured by the courage of his opponents. The same applies to athletes. Beyond all of Secretariat’s record times and winning margins lies the horse who pushed him to three track records and helped secure his place in history. Sham will forever live in the shadows of Big Red, but once every few years he deserves to be thrust into the spotlight he was denied more than three decades ago.

When an athlete pushes another to perform great feats, and still stands apart from the others, it suggests a fine line between himself and the history books. Going strictly by the numbers, take Secretariat away and Sham wins the Kentucky Derby and Preakness by eight lengths, both in blazing-fast times. It has become a cliché to say “in any other year…” But there is no denying that Sham, like Alydar, was born in the wrong year.

Let’s not forget that there is much more to Sham’s resume than finishing second to Secretariat in the Kentucky Derby and Preakness. Before he came face to face with his nemesis, Sham won the Santa Anita Derby in a stakes record-equaling 1:47 flat and captured the Santa Catalina Stakes over a deep, muddy track. Prior to those races he won a pair of 1 1/16-mile allowance races by six and 15 lengths. In his six-length score, his time of 1:41 2/5 was only a second off the track record. In his final start at 2, he broke his maiden at Aqueduct by six lengths, also in the mud, in hand the length of the stretch.

Some were down on him for getting beat a head in the Wood Memorial to Secretariat’s stablemate Angle Light, even though he finished four lengths ahead of Big Red. But the track had been playing dead all week, and Sham had worked four days before the race, blazing five furlongs in :58 flat. By comparison, Secretariat worked a mile the same day in 1:42 2/5, with Angle Light also working a mile in 1:42.

In the Wood, Angle Light controlled the pace with slow fractions of :24 3/5, :48 1/5 and 1:12 1/5, with Sham sitting 1 1/2 lengths back the whole way. Secretariat, as was learned later, had an abscess in his mouth and was in great discomfort from the bit. Jorge Velasquez could have taken on Angle Light whenever he pleased, but he felt he needed to save as much horse as possible to brace for the oncoming assault of Secretariat, which never came. By the time he realized it was just him and Angle Light, they were inside the eighth pole and by then it was too late. And let’s not forget that Angle Light was coming off a good third, beaten only a length, in the Louisiana Derby, and before that romped by 10 lengths in a one-mile allowance race at Aqueduct, run in a swift 1:35 3/5. In his previous start, he was beaten two heads in the Flamingo Stakes, by Our Native and My Gallant, after going head and head the entire race. So, this was no easy opponent by any means, especially when loose on an easy lead.

Sham was owned and bred by Claiborne Farm and trained by Woody Stephens as a 2-year-old. When Claiborne owner A.B. “Bull” Hancock died in late 1972, the racing stock was put up for auction. Among the 2-year-olds on the block was Sham, a son of Pretense, out of the Princequillo mare Sequoia, who was purchased by Sigmund Sommer for $200,000.

Sommer, a New York businessman, was looking to expand his breeding operation and saw Sham as a potential major stallion prospect. Stephens told him he was very talented horse, but he didn’t fully blossom until he was three. Sommer turned Sham over to his regular trainer Frank “Pancho” Martin, who brought him to California for the winter.

Sommer’s wife, Viola, recalled several years later, “The Santa Anita Derby was really a high point. I remember, he was so relaxed while he was being saddled I turned to my husband and said, ‘Doesn’t he know he’s about to run in a very important race?’

“But that’s the way he was. After he ate up every afternoon, he’d lie down in his stall and take a little siesta. He was a lovely, beautiful animal and we enjoyed him so much. He was so well-behaved, you had to love him.”

In the Kentucky Derby, his regular rider Laffit Pincay was back on him, and this time they weren’t about to have a repeat of the Wood. This time there would be no waiting; Pincay would get the jump on Secretariat and make him try to catch him. Pincay moved Sham up from fifth to second behind the fast sprinter Shecky Greene. Around the far turn, Pincay felt it was time to try to bust the race wide open and asked Sham for his move, feeling he could blow right on by Shecky Greene, who was coming off a five-length, wire-to-wire victory in the seven-furlong Stepping Stone Purse a week earlier. But although Shecky Greene was a fast sprinter, having won the seven-furlong Hutcheson Stakes in 1:20 4/5, he did follow that up with a victory in the 1 1/16-mile Fountain of Youth Stakes over a “slow” track.

So, when Sham moved up to challenge for the lead, he found a stubborn Shecky Greene, who wasn’t quite ready to throw in the towel. He pushed Sham through a fourth quarter in :24 2/5, softening him up for Secretariat’s big closing kick. Big Red came charging up on the far outside nearing the quarter pole and looked as if he were going to draw off, but Sham still had plenty left. He ran with Secretariat until inside the eighth pole, but he couldn’t keep pace with Big Red’s spectacular record final quarter in :23 1/5, which resulted in a track-record final time of 1:59 2/5. Not only had Secretariat smashed Northern Dancer’s track record of 2:00, Sham also bettered the record, going in 1:59 4/5. It would take 28 years for a horse to equal his time. Sham was beaten 2 1/2 lengths, but was eight lengths ahead of third-place finisher Our Native.

What made Sham’s performance all the more impressive was the fact that he had hit his head on the side of the starting gate at the break with such force he knocked out two of his teeth and returned bleeding heavily from his mouth. When he returned to be unsaddled, his two teeth were dangling, held together by only a thin strip of his gum. Back at the barn, it took three-quarters of an hour to stop the bleeding and cauterize the wound.

The Preakness was pretty much the same story, as Secretariat again beat Sham by 2 1/2 lengths, with a gap of eight lengths back to Our Native in third. This time, Sham’s misfortune came when he banged into the rail going into the clubhouse turn, just as Big Red was beginning a spectacular last-to-first move on the first turn that caught everyone by surprise. He opened a clear lead on Sham down the backstretch and maintained it to the wire.

By the time Belmont day rolled around, it became apparent that Sham was not the same horse. He became uncharacteristically nervous before the race and was wringing wet by the time he got to the gate. He outran Secretariat early, as planned, but had little challenge for Big Red when he moved alongside down the backstretch, especially with the blazing fractions they were running. After three-quarters in an unheard of 1:09 4/5, Sham faded into the footnotes of history, while Secretariat kept pouring it on, shattering the record books and establishing his place in the pantheon of the immortals.

Several weeks after the Belmont, the unfortunate Sham suffered a fractured cannon bone. Following a two-hour operation, in which three screws were inserted in his leg, the prognosis looked good for a complete recovery. But later in the year, it was decided it would be in the colt’s best interest to retire him.

“We all cried because he was such a brave horse and had his career end so early,” Viola Sommer said. “All I kept thinking was ‘What if?’”

Although Sham came along in the wrong year, as everyone agrees, Sommer still has fond memories of his battles with Secretariat. “The rivalry was so good for the sport,” she said. “It gave racing a real revival. Penny Tweedy was a great ambassador, and everyone got caught up in it.”

Sham was retired to Spendthrift Farm, and then later moved to Walmac. In the early morning hours of April 3, 1993, the nightwatchman checked in on Sham and found the 23-year-old stallion dead in his stall, the victim of an apparent heart attack.

“I was really saddened, but I felt good that he had a very peaceful, happy life and didn’t endure any pains or illnesses,” Sommer said. “He wound up being an excellent broodmare sire, and all things considered, I feel warm about his place in history.”

After his death, an autopsy revealed that Sham’s heart weighed an incredible 18 pounds, more than double the normal Thoroughbred heart, which is 8.5 pounds. By comparison, the great Eclipse’s heart weighed 14 pounds, which was unheard of. It was so large, a London surgeon decided to weigh it following the horse’s death in 1789. The only heart believed to have weighed more than Sham’s was, you guessed it, Secretariat, whose heart was estimated at 22 pounds by Dr. Thomas Swerczek, head pathologist at the University of Kentucky.

Even in death, Sham broke all records, only to finish second to Secretariat.

Secretariat Movie Will be Great

cdawahare — Tue, 16 Jun 2009 18:24:00 GMT

As someone who usually is critical of racing movies, because of their constant inaccuracies, sappy scripts, ludicrous staging of races (excluding "Seabiscuit"), and liberties with the truth, I am going to go out on a limb and write a review preview (or is it preview review?), saying that "Secretariat" the movie is going to be right up there with "Phar Lap" and "Champions (excluding the never-ending hospital scenes)" as one of the top horse racing movies of all time.

I can't help but think back to the premiere of "Seabiscuit," at the Palace Theater in Louisville. I had mixed feelings about the movie, due to the number of times they skirted around Laura Hillenbrand's fantastic book and fabricated the truth for the sake of "Hollywood." War Admiral, 18 hands? Yes, it's trivial in the main scheme of things, but that was just one of many examples. Seabiscuit being a small horse wasn't good enough. They had to portray War Admiral, who was the same size as Seabiscuit, as this big, bad Goliath of a horse, making their confrontation equivalent of Mickey Rooney wrestling Andre the Giant.

As the audience cleared out of the theater and onto Fourth Avenue, one of the first people I saw was Penny Chenery, who proceeded to list all the things about the movie she didn't like, mainly the inaccuracies. This pan came not as a movie critic, but as the "First Lady of the Turf," who had little tolerance for such Hollywood antics. Everything she said was correct, and I knew right then and there that any movie about Secretariat would be based on accuracy, and would let racing shine through on its own and not be blinded by Hollywood's glaring spotlight.

With the Secretariat movie focusing on Penny, I am even more convinced it will be done with class, accuracy, and intelligence. It will be everything the recent Ruffian movie wasn't.

I do have to admit to a certain amount of prejudice, having had a "crush" on Diane Lane since seeing her in "A Little Romance" and then "Lonesome Dove." Don't get the wrong idea; I know she was only about 14 when she made A Little Romance. I use the word crush in an innocuous way. Yes, she is strikingly beautiful and a terrific actress, but she has the class needed to portray someone like Penny Chenery (then Penny Tweedy). And don't forget, parts of A Little Romance were filmed at Longchamp Race Course, so she was thrust into racing right from the start.

I have interviewed numerous celebrities over the years, including Bo Derek, and I am not one to get starstruck or fawn over some beautiful actress. My blasé attitude often drives my wife and daughter up the wall. But I have to admit I'm almost glad I wasn't aware that Diane Lane was in the paddock on Belmont Stakes day, because I probably would have turned into a bumbling idiot.

Getting back to the Secretariat movie, the story of Chenery is a compelling one and does not need much tweaking from Disney. Hers is the quintessential story of girl leaves old established horse farm to start her own life; girl returns to dying father to help save the farm; super horse comes along to win the Kentucky Derby, saves farm and becomes a national hero. Only this time, it was two horses who came along to save the farm. Let's not forget Riva Ridge. This is right out of the mother of all racing movies, "Kentucky," released in 1938, with Loretta Young pretty much playing Penny Chenery. Other movies with basically the same plot, such as "Glory," (this time with the Chenery character played by Margaret O'Brien) followed over the years. Only now, it's going to be a true story, with the best technical adviser anyone could ask for - Chenery herself.

The main question is how they are going to film Secretariat's races. I guess it's not too hard to stage a race where the winner wins by 31 lengths. And wait until you see the riders strangling their horses as Secretariat blows by them on the first turn of the Preakness. Will they gloss over the losses to Onion and Prove Out? Will they be able to find a skinny, lop-eared horse to play the lovable Riva Ridge? Will they dramatize the now infamous mouth abscess before the Wood Memorial that no one knew about at the time? Will we see Diane Lane get heated after the Wood Memorial loss to stablemate Angle Light? Maybe they need a turf writer (ahem) to ask her before the Kentucky Derby: "So, Penny, do have any concerns about a Bold Ruler getting a mile and a quarter?" I don't mind looking like an idiot. I've asked dumber questions than that.

Will they be able to make a horse, or horses, look like Secretariat as well as they made the equine actor/actors look like Phar Lap? What this movie also has going for it is that there are now several generations of racing fans who only know Secretariat as some Pegasus-like creature from racing folklore. To actually get a chance to see and feel what it was like to have witnessed this magnificent Thoroughbred in person, you can be sure it will bring them out in droves. And, unlike the Ruffian and Seabiscuit movies, no one gets hurt.

Of course, the technical questions still need to be answered. But at this point, I can state unequivocally that with Penny Chenery, Diane Lane, and Disney, "Secretariat" will be a smash success.

Ky. Derby Trail: Flashback to Greatness

Blood-Horse Staff — Thu, 22 Jan 2009 21:44:00 GMT

What do the following horses have in common? Secretariat, Seattle Slew, Spectacular Bid, Affirmed, Alydar, Damascus, Buckpasser, Easy Goer, Riva Ridge, Holy Bull, Spend a Buck, and Swale?

All of them, despite having run at a mile or longer as a 2-year-old, made their 3-year-old debut going seven furlongs or shorter.

In recent years, trainers, for whatever reason, are reluctant to drop a horse back in distance for his 3-year-old debut. Now you see races like the Hutcheson Stakes and Bay Shore Stakes dominated by sprinters. You rarely see a top 2-year-old make his first start at 3 in a sprint of any kind, with many trainers rushing them into 1 1/8-mile races, as they do with horses who have never even been two turns.

Read the full column here.

The Unbeatable Horse

Blood-Horse Staff — Mon, 04 Aug 2008 13:41:00 GMT

How many times have you heard the expression, “No one would have beaten him today?” Throughout history, there have been numerous horses who, for one or two races, turned in performances so extraordinary, you can’t imagine anyone beating them. Often, these horses were meant for great things, but were hampered by a variety of problems, such as unsoundness, breathing problems, mental issues etc. When everything came together perfectly, however, that potential greatness surfaced, and pity anyone who happened to cross paths with them on that day.

To continue our celebration of Secretariat’s 35th anniversary, I am going to relay the story (long again, sorry) of one of those horses, and perhaps it will explain why even Big Red couldn’t beat him.

That horse is Prove Out, and the perfect storm that developed on Sept. 29, 1973 was made up of two elements that came together at the exact same time. One of those elements was Prove Out’s greatness that surfaced on that day, thanks to the remarkable training of Allen Jerkens, who had already brought down the mighty Secretariat with Onion, a hard-knocking, fast horse who did not come close to possessing the raw talent and brilliance of Prove Out. The second element was the poor decision by trainer Lucien Laurin and owner Penny Tweedy to run Secretariat in the Woodward, a race in which he was not intended to run and was totally unprepared for.

First, let’s look at Secretariat. As everyone is well aware, Big Red was incubating a virus when he was defeated by Onion in the Whitney. The stress of competition brought it to a head and the colt came out of the race with a fever. His appetite declined and he acted sluggish for several days, and there was no choice but to skip the Travers. You have to remember, this is a horse who worked a mile for the Whitney in the mud in 1:34 4/5 after splits of :57 2/5, 1:09 1/5, and 1:21 3/5. His mile time was a track record at Saratoga, as was his 1 1/8-mile gallop-out in 1:47 4/5. The gallop-out time was a full second and two-fifths faster than the final time of the Whitney.

Prior to the Whitney, the Philip Morris Corporation proposed a $250,000 match race between Secretariat and his stablemate Riva Ridge, winner of the previous year’s Kentucky Derby and Belmont Stakes who had set a world record for 1 3/16 miles in the Brooklyn Handicap on July 4. The race, which was the brainchild of Philip Morris marketing director Jack Landry, would be called the Marlboro Cup and was scheduled for Sept. 15.

But some took exception to the race, which would be nothing more than major payday for Meadow Stable. Most people, however, were thrilled at the prospect of seeing the two Kentucky Derby winners meet. This would be Riva Ridge’s chance to knock off the horse in whose shadow he had existed for almost a year. But when Riva Ridge was upset by a 56-1 shot named Wichita Oil in an allowance race on the grass on Aug. 1, it took a good deal of interest out of the match race. No one could understand why he had been put on the grass at that point. Then, when Secretariat was defeated in the Whitney three days later, the race had pretty much lost its luster. Philip Morris had to change tactics and made the race an open invitation.

Riva Ridge rebounded from his defeat to win an allowance race on Aug. 21, just barely holding on to defeat Halo by a half-length. But the entire Marlboro Cup hinged on whether Secretariat could make it back in time. And no one knew how sharp he’d be coming off an illness and a six-week layoff. Secretariat worked well, but needed a stiff drill three days before the race to indicate he was ready to tackle the likes of Riva Ridge, Key to the Mint, Cougar II, Kennedy Road, Travers winner Annihilate “Em, and his Whitney nemesis Onion.

Big Red carried so much muscle he needed to work fast before a race to get sharp, both mentally and physically. Even as a youngster, he was a big, fat baby who had a tendency to get lazy. When Secretariat worked five furlongs in :57 flat, going out six furlongs in 1:08 4/5, Laurin knew he was ready.

History shows that Secretariat defeated Riva Ridge by 3 1/2 lengths, and his time of 1:45 2/5 established a new world record. He now looked invincible again.

Meanwhile, far beyond all the hoopla, Allen Jerkens was quietly working on his new acquisition, Prove Out, a regally bred colt whom he had purchased privately from King Ranch for Jack Dreyfus’ Hobeau Farm. Prove Out was born for greatness, being by the classic sire Graustark, out of Equal Venture, a granddaughter of Equipoise who had already produced major stakes winners Heartland and Saidam.

But Prove Out had bad ankles and other problems, and his trainer William J. “Buddy” Hirsch could do little with him. By August of his 4-year-old year, he had won only four races (a maiden and three allowance races) in 27 career starts. The longest distance he’d ever won at was 1 1/16 miles, and that came in his maiden victory.

But Jerkens had his eye on Prove Out for a while, recalling the promise he had shown at Santa Anita at the end of his 3-year-old campaign. Jerkens and Hirsch were good friends, and one day Hirsch approached Jerkens and said, “I don’t want you to think I’m hustling you or anything, but that horse I saw you looking at is coming up for sale. He’s a little raunchy and Mr. Kleberg (King Ranch owner Robert Kleberg) is mad at him and wants to sell him.”

Jerkens knew Prove Out came from families that were trained hard and felt he might respond to hard training, much like Beau Purple, who began Jerkens’ legendary role as “The Giant Killer” by upsetting five-time Horse of the Year Kelso on three occasions.

Jerkens had just sold Dreyfus’ Widener Handicap winner Vertee for a nice profit, and decided to take a chance on Prove Out, buying him for Dreyfus for $65,000. He began by concentrating on the colt’s ankles, tubbing them and poulticing them. He used a eucalyptus vaporizer to clear up his sinuses and applied linament to his shoulders. In short, he did everything he could to build him back up and alleviate any aches and pains that may have been bothering him.

Prove Out also had a bad habit of lugging in, so Jerkens put his best exercise rider, Jimmy Rhoades, on him to try to teach him to keep a straight course. Two weeks after getting him, Jerkens ran him in a seven-furlong allowance race at Saratoga on Aug. 24. To prevent him from lugging in, he equipped the colt with a burr and put an inside cup on his blinker. Prove Out responded by defeating the quick-footed Cutlass and the 3-5 favorite Forego by 6 1/2 lengths in a track-record 1:21 flat.

But when Jerkens dropped Prove Out back to six furlongs in another allowance race on Sept. 1 at Belmont, he was taken too far off the pace and just missed catching Dr. Fager’s full brother Highbinder by a head in 1:09 4/5. Jerkens ran him right back nine days later in a 1 1/16-mile allowance race and Prove Out equaled the track record of 1:40 2/5, beating Halo by 5 1/2 lengths.

The nine-furlong Chesapeake Handicap at Bowie on Sept. 22 looked like an easy spot for the colt’s first stakes victory. He was in with only 111 pounds and was sent off as the 9-5 favorite. But all of Jerkens’ work seemed for naught when Prove Out lugged in again and hit the rail before retreating to a seventh-place finish.

Back in the Secretariat camp, Laurin and Tweedy had decided to point Secretariat to the Man o’ War Stakes on the grass on Oct. 8 and run Riva Ridge in the mile and a half Woodward Stakes. Secretariat had his first work on the turf, breezing a half-mile in :48 around the dogs and then turned in a slow, easy mile in 1:38. The Woodward was only two weeks after the Marlboro Cup, and after being drilled hard to make that race and then setting a new world record, the Woodward was hardly the place for Secretariat to come right back and stretch out from 1 1/8 miles to 1 1/2 miles. If the term “bounce” existed back then, Secretariat was a prime candidate to bounce.

When the weather forecast called for rain on Woodward day, Laurin and Tweedy decided to enter both Riva Ridge and Secretariat. If the track was fast, Riva Ridge would run, but if it came up sloppy, which Riva Ridge detested, they would substitute Secretariat. The track did come up sloppy and Riva Ridge was scratched, leaving Secretariat to go 1 1/2 miles on an off track only two weeks after breaking a world record and having to go into the race off two slow works on the grass. It was a recipe for disaster.

Jerkens, meanwhile, was angry and disappointed over Prove Out’s performance at Bowie. In the morning, he equipped the colt with a severe run-out bit and turned it the opposite way. The bit had prongs that hit the side of the jaw, and Jerkens used it in the hope that during the race the burr would remind the horse of that bit hitting the side of his mouth and he would respond to it.

Jerkens decided to take a shot and run Prove Out in the weight-for-age Woodward, even though he’d have to pick up 15 pounds off the Chesapeake run the week before, concede seven pounds to Secretariat, and stretch out from 1 1/16 miles to 1 1/2 miles. It also would mark Prove Out’s fifth start in five weeks since coming to Jerkens, who felt if the track came up fast and Secretariat should scratch then someone had a shot to get lucky.

But it didn’t come up fast and Secretariat didn’t scratch. The day of the race, Jerkens and Dreyfus were hanging out in the picnic area behind the grandstand when they showed a replay of Secretariat’s Marlboro Cup on the closed circuit TV monitors. After watching Big Red draw off from the field, Jerkens turned to Dreyfus and said, “What the hell are we doing in this race?”

Jerkens had given Prove Out several three-mile gallops to build up his stamina and removed the blinkers for the race, feeling he didn’t need them going a mile and a half.

Because of space I won’t go into the running of the race other than to say the 1-5 Secretariat took over the lead from the 16-1 Prove Out shortly after heading into the backstretch and was able to slow the pace down. Around the far turn, with Big Red winging out there by two lengths, the crowd waited for the explosion that was sure to come. Secretariat had picked up the pace with a :24 flat quarter, with Prove Out and Cougar II lapped on each other. After another testing quarter in :24 2/5, Cougar II was done, but Prove Out wouldn’t go away. To the amazement of everyone, he came charging back along the inside and just blew right on by Secretariat.

Despite never even coming close to running this far, Prove Out came home his final quarter in a spectacular :24 flat, drawing off to a 4 1/2-length victory. Over a sloppy track that was not playing fast at all, Prove Out stopped the teletimer in 2:25 4/5, which still to this day is the second-fastest mile and a half ever run at Belmont. Only Secretariat’s out-of-this world Belmont performance was faster. Another unbelievable aspect of Prove Out’s performance was his running each of his last three quarters in :24 flat, a feat unheard of at that distance.

Regardless of what cynics may say, Secretariat did not lose the Woodward. Prove Out won the Woodward, and I can’t think of any horse who would have beaten him that day. Although everything was against Secretariat, he still ran the mile and a half in 2:26 3/5, which would have equaled Gallant Man’s previous track record before Big Red shattered it in the Belmont Stakes.

Remarkably, Secretariat would come back only nine days later and set a new course record of 2:24 4/5 in winning the Man o’War Stakes by five lengths in his grass debut, defeating the top-class Tentam and Big Sprice.

Prove Out wasn’t done with his assault on Meadow Stable superstars. For the two-mile Jockey Club Gold Cup, Jerkens breezed Prove Out a pair of slow miles, then breezed him three furlongs in :39 the Sunday before the race. The following morning, Prove Out worked a mile and a half in 2:39 3/5 with a final half in :49 1/5. Three days later, on the Thursday before the race, he galloped a mile and a half, after which he broke off into a dead run for a half-mile, which was timed in :47 2/5. He then galloped out an additional furlong in :12 3/5. There certainly was never anything conventional about Allen Jerkens.

With all this bottom and sharpness in him, Prove Out went head and head with Riva Ridge in the Gold Cup through a seemingly suicidal half in :47 2/5. After six furlongs, Riva Ridge was spent, but Prove Out kept right on going. He covered the mile in a brutal 1:37 1/5 with half of the race still to be run. By comparison, Damascus ran his mile in the 1967 Gold Cup in 1:40 1/5. Arts and Letters went his mile in 1:40 4/5 in 1969. When Kelso set his track and American record in the 1964 Gold Cup, he went his mile in 1:38 2/5.

So brutal was the pace that Riva Ridge would be beaten more than 33 lengths. When the distance-loving Loud came charging up to challenge nearing the quarter pole, Prove Out looked like he was cooked, especially when he veered in and bounced off the rail. But, again, to the shock of everyone, he shifted to another gear and spurted away from Loud. Somehow he managed to close his final quarter in an incredible :24 4/5, winning by 4 3/4 lengths. His time was 3:20 flat, and to this day only Kelso has run a faster two miles in this country (3:19 1/5 and 3:19 4/5).

In two races, Prove Out had demonstrated every aspect of greatness – speed, stamina, courage, fast-closing fractions, and class, defeating three future Hall of Famers – Secretariat, Riva Ridge, and Cougar II. By destroying Forego earlier, it means he defeated four Hall of Famers in three different races at three different distances in the span of two months.

Prove Out showed his brilliance again the following spring, winning the 1 1/4-mile Grey Lag Handicap by six lengths in a swift 2:00 1/5. But physical problems again caught up with him and he was retired to Gainesway Farm after three straight defeats.

Prove Out will not be remembered as a great horse, and in fact is only remembered at all because of his upset of Secretariat. But he should serve as a reminder that greatness can emerge anytime, anywhere, and from anyone. Make no mistake about it, Secretariat was beaten in the Woodward by a great horse who, on that day, may very well have been unbeatable.

Happy Anniversary, Big Red

Blood-Horse Staff — Wed, 23 Jul 2008 22:01:00 GMT

It was just about this time 36 years ago that I was sitting on the porch at Saratoga having breakfast with a Daily Racing Form co-worker who also happened to be one of my best friends. There was the usual amount of activity on the track, with horses working and galloping past us in a steady procession.

At one point, I heard a noise behind me that grew louder as it got closer. It almost sounded like machinery, but I knew, of course, it was the sound of hooves hitting the ground. I had just never heard them quite that loud before.

I naturally turned around to see who it was. There before me, stretched out and gobbling up the ground with gigantic strides was a big, powerful chestnut. I recognized the blue and white colors of Meadow Stable on the colt’s equipment, and figured it could only be their highly touted 2-year-old Secretariat, who was already making a name for himself at the Saratoga meeting.

That was my first look at Big Red. There would be many more to follow. I was present for the majority of his races, and vividly remember watching the Preakness from the Pimlico roof and seeing him make that incredible move from last to first right below me. At the precise moment Ron Turcotte let him go, or had to let him go, it appeared as if Secretariat was about to take flight. Jockey George Cusimano, on the pace-setting Ecole Etage, said Secretariat sounded like a freight train coming up behind him, just as he had sounded to me that morning at Saratoga. When Secretariat charged past Ecole Etage, Cusimano said he went by him with such force he blew the number right off his sleeve.

A short while earlier, just after Lucien Laurin had finished saddling him on the turf course, I walked right up to Big Red and took a photo of him as he stood there motionless, staring straight ahead. As soon as he heard the clicking of my camera, he turned his head and looked right at me. I quickly took a second photo that is still one of my all-time favorites.

And there were the mornings at the barn, especially the one in September when Secretariat and Riva Ridge went out to the track together to work on the grass. Seeing the brawny Secretariat, his mane blowing in the breeze and his golden coat illuminated by the morning sun, walking side by side with the loppy-eared, gazelle-like Riva Ridge was something one doesn’t forget too quickly. I also got a great photo of that, which eventually appeared in the 2002 Kentucky Derby souvenir magazine.

The last I saw of Secretariat on the track was the day they bid farewell to him on a chilly, fall November day at Aqueduct. As soon as Ron Turcotte began parading him in front of the stands, Big Red broke off in a show horse canter, his neck bowed, giving the fans one final, unforgettable look. Following the ceremonies, he was walking along the rail heading back to the barn for the last time when a shaft of light sliced through the broken clouds and beamed down directly on him. It was a fitting final image that was beautifully captured by DRF photographer Ray Woolfe Jr.

I would visit Secretariat several times at Claiborne, and was told by the groom that he loved Certs breath mints, which my wife and I fed him. He would always put on a show. One time, he grabbed a large tree branch off the ground and stuck it in his mouth as if he were sucking on a lollipop. He trotted over to us and put his head over the fence, wanting us to pull it out of his mouth. We were happy to oblige. My final photo of Secretariat was taken in his paddock. He had been rolling on the grass in the middle of the paddock, and as he was getting up, he planted his two forelegs in the ground, raised his head, and pushed up with his forelegs. I took the photo just at that point, and many have commented that he looks like Pegasus rising from the ashes. Sounds good to me.

In late 2001, I drove down to Virginia to do a feature for the Blood-Horse on Secretariat’s old grooms who took care of him at Meadow Stud when he was a baby. As the first of my tributes to Secretariat on the 35th anniversary of his Triple Crown, I have decided to reprint that story (even though it’s kind of long), hoping it will give the readers an idea of what life was like at The Meadow back then; what it was like caring for a young Secretariat; and what eventually happened to all his old grooms.

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In the spring of 1969, a magical seed was planted in the equine garden known as The Meadow, located in Caroline County, Va., just north of Richmond. From that seed the following spring would sprout a legendary creature who would one day transcend the Sport of Kings and forever alter the course of racing history.

But the harsh winds of 30 winters have since eroded this hallowed ground that once nurtured the immortal Secretariat. The pastures and training track that once shook from the pounding of "Big Red's" mighty hooves have been still for two decades.

Only 400 of the farm's original 2,000 acres are as they were then. The training track and adjoining barns have remained somewhat intact, but are decaying with every passing year. There are no longer horses frolicking about or even photographs on an office wall to keep the memories alive. All that remains in Caroline County to remind one of The Meadow's illustrious past are the aging, but still-fertile, minds of several former grooms, to whom those glory days of the 1950s, '60s, and '70s have all but faded from their minds. They have moved on with their lives--two work full-time as janitors, two have retired, and one dabbles as a handyman, occasionally doing lawn work and fixing small engines and lawn mowers.

Charlie Ross, 66, passes The Meadow every day to and from his job at the All American Truck Plaza, just off Interstate 95, directly across from King's Dominion amusement park. Ross has been employed there as a janitor for the past eight years. For someone who worked at The Meadow for 37 years, taking care of some of the best-bred yearlings in the country, Ross admits, “It was strange at first going from the horses to cleaning showers.”

One of the yearlings who was turned over to him in the early spring of 1971 was a powerful chestnut colt by Bold Ruler, out of Somethingroyal, who had already been given the name Secretariat.

Ross spent nearly a year grooming Secretariat, watching him trim off pounds of baby fat and develop into a racehorse and eventually into a legend. But the big chestnut with the three white legs and long, elegant strip of white running down his face was but one of many horses to pass Ross' way. Although he does admit to feeling good about his role in Secretariat's life, in the world of Charlie Ross, there is not much room for sentimentality. His only personal link to Secretariat these days is a copy of Ray Woolfe Jr.'s book, which tells Big Red's story in text and photos. Any other pieces of memorabilia collected over the years are long gone.

On the afternoon of Dec. 20, 2001, Ross left work at the usual time of 3 o'clock, got into his 1999 metallic blue Toyota pickup, and headed west on two-lane Route 30 toward his home on nearby Sadie Lane. But today was different. Instead of driving past the dirt road entrance of The Meadow's old training complex, Ross hung a right and drove along the outside of the track to an opening in the rail. On the other side of the track was the indoor training barn and the European-style stable area, with the three outdoor barns forming three sides of a square. The fourth side, completing the square, was a large open shed, in which still stood the old hotwalking machine.

Ross looked at the peeling paint of the training barn that was now more gray than white and just shook his head. "It's been a lot of years since I've been here," he said. "It feels strange to be back. There was a time when I used to be here more than I was at home. There sure was no paint peeling off back then like it is now. We used to paint it every year. This was a beautiful place to work, and Mr. (Christopher) Chenery was a wonderful man to work for. So was Mrs. Tweedy (Chenery's daughter Penny, who took over the farm after her father's death in 1972)."

Ross, who has a noticeable limp due to arthritis, walked alongside one of the barns, passing one stall after another. When he came to the end, he unhooked the top door of the first stall and said, as if he were unveiling a priceless work of art, "This was Secretariat's stall." Inside, several of the ceiling boards had come loose and were split and rotted. In the back left corner hung a veil of cobwebs, and in the front left corner stood an old broom.

Ross just stared inside, then took a few steps forward and rested his arms atop the bottom stall door. Although he said nothing, one couldn't help but imagine the flood of memories that were rushing through his mind. "See these two holes," he said, pointing to a pair of nail holes in the open top door. "This is where I hung the plaque that read: 'Secretariat, by Bold Ruler out of Somethingroyal.' Yeeeaaah, it does bring back memories. I remember when I used to stand outside this stall in the sunshine, just as I am now.

"I got Secretariat in the spring, along with five other yearlings, and I remember liking him when I first saw him. He was built real strong, and because he was so big and powerful, it took him a while to get it together. He was a very quiet horse to work with and I didn't have any problems with him. He had no bad habits; no biting, no kicking or anything like that. Meredith Bailes used to ride him a lot and he thought he might be something, but he really never showed anything to make us believe he was gonna become such a great horse."

Ross recalled going to the Preakness on a rented bus with other farm employees. He also attended the Belmont Stakes with his wife, but was blocked by the huge crowd and had to watch the historic event on a TV monitor in the clubhouse.

As Ross returned to his truck, he seemed to be engulfed by the quiet, as the only sound came from the winter winds howling through the naked tree limbs. "Yeah, I made a lot of tracks around this old place," he said. "But there's nothin' around here no more. It's really sad. I still think about Secretariat now and then, especially when I watch the races on television. But I have another job now, and as long as I'm working, I'm happy."

Just up the road from Ross' house is the home of 66-year-old Bannie Mines, who along with Howard Gregory and Lewis Tillman, took care of Secretariat when he was a foal and weanling. Tillman died several years ago, but Mines and Gregory are still going strong. Mines lives in a small house on Riva Ridge Road with his daughter and grandson, for whom he babysits while his daughter is at work. A few doors down lives Raymond "Peter Blue" Goodall, who was Riva Ridge's groom when he was a yearling.

Gregory lives several minutes away, across Route 30, on Gregory Road. One of his neighbors is 74-year-old Wilbur "Bill" Street, who spent most of his time at the track, but did team up with his brother Harry to van Secretariat from the farm to Hialeah in January of 1972 to start his racing career.

Mines says he doesn't do much else other than some yard work and watching television. Gregory, although 76, is still sharp and loves to keep busy, mowing lawns, doing a little landscaping, and fixing engines.

Gregory worked at The Meadow for 31 years and another several years after Penny Chenery sold the farm. Of the next two owners of The Meadow, also known as Meadow Farm, one went bankrupt and the other went to prison. The current owner tore down the original house and built a new one across the road from the old training complex.

Gregory was around Secretariat from the day he was born, which was March 30, 1970, at 10 minutes past midnight. Dr. Olive Britt, The Meadow's veterinarian who still practices part-time at age 83, remembers getting a call from the nightwatchman, telling her that Somethingroyal was in the middle of foaling. By the time she arrived, Somethingroyal had already given birth. Britt, who now lives in nearby Goochland County, said she'll never forget farm manager Howard Gentry watching the foal get to his feet and saying, "This is what we've been waiting for for 35 years."

Gregory could tell right away the colt was something special. "We knew from the get-go he was different from any horse we ever had," he said. "There was definitely something there. I remember him being very alert, and he'd test you. When you walked him to the paddock your mind and his had to correspond. If he thought you weren't paying attention he was gone. You had to have your mind focused on him at all times. I also worked with Riva Ridge and he was an altogether different horse. He was so quiet, and all you had to do was say, 'Whoa, Riva,' and he'd just stop and stand there. But Secretariat would try you in a heartbeat. You had to know what you were doing, because he always knew when you had him and when you didn't. And if he knew you didn't, that was it; he was gone.

"He was a gorgeous colt, with a beautiful head, and those three white stockings. I'll never forget watching the Belmont Stakes on TV. Lord, that was something to see. I'm very proud to have been around a horse like that. I remember putting his mother, Somethingroyal, in the ground after she died at age 31. I also buried Hill Prince. Those were really special days back then, and you couldn't work for anyone nicer than Mr. Chenery. Money was never a problem, and we got bonuses and shares in winnings. I was available anytime they needed me, because I loved what I was doing and where I was working. When I wanted to build my own house, they helped me out. And because of Mr. Chenery, I live in a six-room house on five acres, and it's all mine. There aren't many people out there like Mr. Chenery anymore.

"I stayed on after Mrs. Tweedy sold the farm, but the last fellow I worked for, Mr. (Eric) Friedlander, couldn't pay us, so I left. I drive by the farm most every day, shopping and doing errands, but I go right by. I haven't been back since the day I left. It hurts me too bad to see what's become of it. I've had several jobs since, but I'm pretty much retired now. I thank God I'm still around to do whatever I want to. I couldn't ask for more than that."

Gregory, like Ross, has little in the way of memorabilia from the old days, and no longer sees much of his fellow workers. "I used to have all kinds of stuff, but where they are I couldn't put my finger on it," he said. "It's been so long. I very seldom get a chance to visit with the other guys. Everybody's pretty much gone on their own now. Every once in a while I run acrosss one of 'em, but not too often."

Gregory actually lives only five or six minutes from Riva Ridge Road, and was able to point out Bannie Mines' house before heading to Richmond to do some errands. Mines, who is Charlie Ross' brother-in-law, is an amiable fellow with white hair, who cordially welcomed a stranger into his home. While his memory is not nearly as sharp as Gregory's, and he has a problem hearing, he did try to pull out whatever remnants of the old days his memory could muster. Mines worked at The Meadow for 25 years, mainly in the broodmare barn and helping out with the yearlings.

“I remember Secretariat was a big, strong colt; bigger than the others, and very well built,” he recalled. “With the weanlings, we always tried to put the three best horses together, and the best horse would go into the first stall. I remember Secretariat was put in the first stall, so everyone must have felt he was the best. He gave you an idea even then that he might turn into something. It made me feel real good to see him become such a great horse. He was pretty easy to work with, but he had a temper, too. I had him for about a year, and then he went to Charlie.”

Mines continued on after the farm was sold, then went to work at another farm before retiring. “I don't do much these days, just rake a little leaves and cut a little grass," he said. “I watch TV most of the time. I don’t have any souvenirs, but I did have a picture of Hill Prince. I think it's out back in the shed somewhere.”

Mines then went out to his backyard and opened the door to his shed. He had to step over several large objects to get to the back wall, and there, hanging in a glassless frame, was a finish and winner's circle photo of Hill Prince, yellowed by the years. Mines removed the photo from the frame and showed off his only link to the old days. “I really do miss those days," he said. “But I left after the last people took over and I've never been back.”

Riva Ridge Road and Sadie Lane comprise the settlement known as Duval Town, which was originally built after emancipation to house freed slaves. It was there that the majority of grooms lived. Each morning, the farm truck would make its rounds through Duval Town, picking up the grooms and bringing them to work. Sadie Lane was named by the county after the matriarch of the extended family that lived there. Known as “Aunt Sarah” or “Aunt Sadie,” she cooked for Penny Chenery's mother in the 1940s.

“I remember Raymond Goodall's mother, Magnolia, worked in the house, along with her sister,” Penny Chenery recalled. “And they were daughters of Aunt Sadie. They were all great people. The grooms were all in their 30s during the heyday of the '70s. Whenever we won a big race, we gave them a week's pay. They were wonderful to me. I clearly was not my father, but they were respectful and helpful as I was learning on the job. It was just a wonderful team.”

And they came up with a wonderful horse, believed by many to be the greatest of all time. There are only faint memories left for The Meadow's grooms. But Howard Gregory's eyes still light up when he thinks of the chestnut foal who would one day grow up to be Big Red. He rolled the images around in his mind for a few seconds before the words made their way out: “A horse like Secretariat. That will never happen no more.”