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Man o’ War
To an entire generation of Americans, he was the living symbol of Thoroughbred racing – a big, high-headed red horse with an imperious look and a burning desire to run. Before the end of his three-year-old season he was a living legend, and even though he has long since passed on, the legend still lives. “He,” of course, was Man o’ War, still considered by many experts as the greatest American racehorse of all time. When he was foaled on March 29, 1917, however, he was just another colt, although certainly one for which his breeder, August Belmont II, held high expectations. Belmont had already enjoyed great success with the cross of his stallion Fair Play to mares by the English Triple Crown winner *Rock Sand, and the new red colt’s elder full sister, Masda, had shown a good deal of speed despite a less than ideal temperament. Mahubah, the dam of the future champion, had won only once in five starts although she was a full sister to Sand Mole, winner of the London Cup in England. She was perhaps handicapped by an excessively nervous temperament, which she passed in part to her great son; lion that he was on the racetrack, Man o’ War would sometimes chew on his own hooves when in his stall, much as a nervous human may chew his or her own fingernails. Nonetheless, Belmont was not disturbed by Mahubah’s lack of race record. She had shown plenty of speed in the one race she did win, and his opinion was that lightly raced mares generally did far better at stud than their more heavily raced sisters – an opinion said to have been shaped by his experience with his great race mare Beldame, who was never able to reproduce herself in the paddocks. Originally, Belmont had doubtless intended to race Man o’ War himself; he did not normally breed for the sales ring. But World War I intervened, and Belmont, although sixty-four years old in 1917, patriotically requested the opportunity to serve his country. His request was granted with a major’s commission and an assignment to Spain in the Quartermaster Corps. By the time the spring of 1918 rolled around, it was becoming apparent to Belmont that his stint overseas was going to last longer than he had anticipated. Further, he had sunk much of his money into a canal across Cape Cod that had proven an expensive nightmare, and his fortune was no longer what it had been. Accordingly, he decided to sell his 1918 yearling crop except for five fillies, who would be retained for the broodmare band, and the big red colt that his wife had named “Man o’ War.” (According to some accounts, Mrs. Belmont had actually requested the name “My Man o’ War” for the colt in honor of her husband, but the Jockey Club apparently deemed the name too sentimental and dropped the “My.”) When the Belmont yearlings arrived for sale at Saratoga, however, Man o’ War was with them. What caused this change of heart is uncertain, but the most common story is that Belmont felt buyers would believe he was selling only his culls if he did not include the colt. His age and health may also have been factors in the decision. And so the greatest horse he would ever breed went to the auction block, where on August 17, 1918, Samuel D. Riddle purchased him for $5,000. The price was a good one by the standards of the time – most accounts give the sale average as $1,038 – but it would prove to be one of the greatest bargains in history. (While it is generally agreed that Robert Gerry was the underbidder on Man o’ War, in later years the number of people who claimed that they had “almost bought Man o’ War” mushroomed to such an extent that the Saratoga sales pavilion of that time could not have held them all. Combine that with the number of people who claimed to have bet on Big Red in the Kentucky Derby – a race he never ran in – and, as more than one wag noted, the resulting crowd could not have fit inside Churchill Downs.) Man o’ War was fortunate in that Riddle had engaged Louis Feustel as his trainer. Formerly an assistant trainer for Belmont, Feustel had worked with both Fair Play and Mahubah, giving him some idea of what might be expected from their son. The colt proved headstrong and difficult to break, nor was he ever particularly fond of such indignities as saddle and bridle. Nonetheless, the claim that he “fought like a tiger” may perhaps be a bit exaggerated, given that Riddle’s memories of the colt’s breaking were only reported long after the fact. What is certain is that it was at this point in his career that Man o’ War developed a strong attachment to a retired hunter named Major Treat, who became his stable companion throughout his racing career. Regardless of what actually transpired during the business of teaching Man o’ War to accept a rider, he soon began training impressively. By the time he reached the racetrack, there was no stopping the rumors about the blazing speed of Riddle’s big Fair Play colt. On June 6, 1919, Man o War went off at odds of 3-5 for a five-furlong maiden special weight at Belmont. All he did was demolish six other well-regarded youngsters by six lengths without being allowed to extend himself; the race chart indicates that he was “under stout restraint” at the end. It was not a bad field, as two of the beaten colts, Neddam and Gladiator, would themselves become stakes winners. From his second start until the last race of his career, the match with Sir Barton, Man o’ War competed exclusively in stakes company. In succession, he won the Keene Memorial Stakes, the Youthful Stakes, the Hudson Stakes, the Tremont Stakes, and the United States Hotel Stakes – all, as the chart put it, “easily, second and third driving.” Then came the Sanford Memorial, the champion’s only defeat and the most controversial race of his career. The controversy began with the race start, which the chart describes as “poor and slow.” The regular starter, Marshall Cassidy, was ill that day, and in his place was Charles Pettingill, an experienced race official but probably more than a little rusty, given that he had not seen active service as a starter in years and had been for some time working as a placing judge instead. The Sanford was one of two races sent off with “poor” starts that day. Accounts describing Man o’ War as having been completely turned the wrong way at the break are probably exaggerated, considering that two other colts got off to even worse starts than he did, but most reliable eyewitness accounts indicate that Man o’ War was not facing straight up the track at the break and lost between six and ten lengths to his chief rivals, Upset and *Golden Broom. The second part of the controversy involves the ride by jockey John Loftus, who tried to save ground by going inside with the big colt. The move backfired as Man o’ War ended up boxed on the rail with Upset in front of him and *Golden Broom preventing his escape on the right. Loftus must have hoped that *Golden Broom would fall back as he tired, opening the box, but as time and ground were running out was forced to check his mount so he could swing to the outside. As Loftus checked Man o’ War, Willie Knapp sensed the move and gunned Upset away from the tiring *Golden Broom. The timing of the moves cost Man o’ War perhaps two lengths with about a sixteenth of a mile to go, and though he came on gamely, he failed to catch Upset by half a length. Most people immediately judged the results to have been a fluke, and Man o’ War was hardly disgraced by his game effort against a good colt who was carrying 115 pounds to his 130. But when John Loftus and Willie Knapp were both denied renewals of their jockey’s licenses at the end of the year, speculation ran wild that the denials had something to do with Man o’ War’s defeat. In truth, there was no reason to believe either jockey had tried to fix the race or otherwise acted inappropriately. Samuel Riddle was so convinced of Loftus’ innocence of anything more than a rare lapse in judgment that he pleaded Loftus’ case personally with The Jockey Club, to no avail. As for Knapp, he had clearly done his best to win as required by the rules of racing; as he himself pointed out in later years, he could have driven clear of *Golden Broom earlier but knew that if he did, “he [Man o’ War]’d have beat me from here to Jaloppy.” Then he added, perhaps a bit wistfully, “Sometimes I’m sorry I didn’t do it.” Upset would never finish ahead of Man o’ War again, nor would he even manage to make the champion work for it in five more encounters. As for Man o’ War, he finished out his juvenile season with easy victories in the Grand Union Hotel Stakes, Hopeful Stakes, and Futurity Stakes. Although official voting for championships did not begin until 1936, there was no question as to the identity of the American champion juvenile of 1919. So dominant had Man o’ War been that there were calls in some quarters for a match between the Riddle colt and the English champion, Tetratema. The proposal is unlikely to have been given serious consideration by either side, given the relatively primitive state of equine transportation in that day, but it does say something about the esteem in which Man o’ War was held. Another measure of that esteem was provided by Daily Racing Form handicapper C. C. Ridley, who weighted Man o’ War atop the two-year-old division with 136 pounds. The next horse down, Blazes – in later years a good sprinter – was weighted at 120 pounds. By contrast, since the inauguration of the Experimental Free Handicap in 1933, no colt has ever been weighted at more than the 132 pounds assigned to the future Triple Crown winner Count Fleet in 1942. As great as the gap between Man o’ War and his contemporaries was at two, it grew bigger at three – as both Feustel and the great handicapper and racing historian Walter Vosburgh said, they had never seen a colt improve so much from two to three. While growing taller – he eventually topped out at 16.2 hands -- he also filled out, going from 970 pounds at the 1919 Saratoga meeting to 1,150 pounds the following year. Riddle was adamant that the first weekend in May was too early in the year for a three-year-old to be asked to carry 126 pounds over a mile and a quarter – a belief that he refused to bend until War Admiral’s Triple Crown campaign in 1937. Thus, Man o’ War did not start in the Kentucky Derby, in which he would have been the undoubted favorite; in his absence, his old rival Upset ran second by a head to Paul Jones. As Upset had never shown that he could run that close to Man o’ War, race fans drew the obvious conclusion that, barring poor racing luck, Man o’ War could hardly have missed winning the Derby had he run for it. Although he went into the Preakness off works alone, he started at odds of 4-5 and led throughout without ever having been extended. Upset finished a length and a half behind, “hard punished all the way” according to the chart. The only moment of drama came when Man o’ War bolted during the post parade; fortunately, he pulled himself up after only a short run, perhaps curious about the excited shouts and cheers of the crowd. Man o’ War’s next conquest was the Withers Stakes, which he won by two lengths. Despite being “under a stout pull,” the big colt ran the distance in 1:35-4/5 and broke the existing American record for one mile under racing conditions by two-fifths of a second, and few of the watching spectators doubted that Man o’ War could have broken Roamer’s record of 1:34-2/5 (made in a time trial) had he been sent for it. The second-place horse, Wildair, was no slouch himself; he would win that year’s Metropolitan Handicap, defeating older males. Perhaps even more impressive, however, was Man o’ War’s pre-race morning workout, in which he allegedly ran one furlong in a blazing 10-1/5 seconds. Only one horse, *Donnacona, was sent against Man o’ War for the Belmont Stakes, then run at one and three-eighths miles. It was no contest; Man o’ War won by twenty lengths under a pull and set a new American record of 2:14-1/5 for the distance, shattering the previous record by more than three seconds. The one-mile Stuyvesant Handicap followed; while on speed figures it was not one of Man o’ War’s best performances, the Riddle colt nonetheless pranced home eight lengths ahead of *Yellow Hand while carrying 135 pounds to *Yellow Hand’s 103. A late developer, *Yellow Hand would go on to become one of the country’s leading handicappers the following year. The Dwyer Stakes followed, and in this, Man o’ War received his acid test of courage. For once in his life, the race was not settled when he broke on top. Doing what no other horse had ever succeeded in doing, John P. Grier stayed with the champion throughout the first mile and actually stuck his head in front between calls. Then, for the first time since the Sanford Memorial, Man o’ War felt the sting of the whip – and as quickly as that, it was over. John P. Grier had given everything he had, and jockey Eddie Ambrose did not persevere with him as Man o’ War drew off to win by one and one-half lengths in new American record time of 1:49-2/5 for nine furlongs. It had been a courageous race for John P. Grier, but even more so for Man o’ War, who was conceding his challenger eighteen pounds (126 to 108). Yet, if jockey Clarence Kummer was to be believed, Man o’ War was not all out at the end and had enough left to have given another horse a battle had that been necessary. The big colt was undoubtedly tired, though – Feustel later said that it was the only time since the colt had been ill as an unraced two-year-old that he hadn’t cleaned up his evening feed and looked for more – and he did not start again for nearly a month. But he was clearly in fine fettle when he came out for the Miller Stakes at Saratoga; under hard restraint most of the way, he defeated *Donnacona by six lengths with King Albert (the only other starter) another four lengths astern. Despite the restraint, Man o’ War’s time was only three-fifths of a second slower than the track record for the one and three-sixteenths mile distance. Earl Sande, substituting for an injured Clarence Kummer in Man o’ War’s saddle, said after the race, “I never felt anything under me like that colt in my life. Why, he is a regular machine!” Adulation for the big colt had by this time reached nearly hysterical proportions, and Man o’ War at times required police protection to keep adoring fans from trying to snatch hairs from his mane and tail as souvenirs. There were also darker threats to the colt’s health and safety; apparently, not everyone was happy with his consistent defeats of everything that faced him – possibly because his prowess was making it impossible to make gambling killings in his races – and one of Feustel’s stable staff always stayed close to the colt, even sleeping near his stall at night. There was no denying that the strain of having a horse around which so much emotion swirled was hard on Riddle, too; one rumor even said that he had hired a private detective to keep an eye on Feustel, which may have been true given that tensions were already running high between owner and trainer. (Feustel quit as Riddle’s trainer the year after Man o’ War’s retirement.) Trainer James Rowe, Jr., was undoubtedly among those who were unhappy with Man o’ War’s victory streak, though there is no reason to suspect that he was among those threatening foul play against the horse. He just wanted to defeat his nemesis. Excepting Upset’s fluke victory in the Sanford, the best colts that the Whitney stable could field had gone down before the juggernaut time and again. Now, Rowe fired a double shot in the Travers Stakes. John P. Grier, who had contended so valiantly with the champion in the Dwyer, was in the Travers at only 115 pounds to 129 on Man o’ War as the race was under allowance conditions at that time; he would be the rabbit, assigned to run Man o’ War dizzy in the early stages of the race. After that, Rowe figured, the consistent Upset under 123 pounds could take on a spent Man o’ War and win. Aside from the two-against-one strategy, Man o’ War’s connections had another concern, as the colt’s regular jockey, Clarence Kummer, was still unavailable due to injury and Sande, who had ridden him in his last start, was not available. Andy Schuttinger, said to be an excellent judge of pace, was engaged as a substitute. But neither human machinations nor human problems mattered a whit to Man o’ War. All he did was scorch the first six furlongs of the Travers Stakes in 1:10 flat, a pace that utterly cooked John P. Grier. It should have cooked him, too. Instead, he coasted home two and a half lengths in front of Upset while under restraint throughout the stretch. His final time of 2:01-4/5 equaled the track record and clearly could have been faster had Schuttinger desired. That was it for both Upset and John P. Grier; neither would ever face Man o’ War again. When the big colt started in the Lawrence Realization, his only opponent was Mrs. Walter Jeffords’ colt Hoodwink, who was entered purely as a courtesy in the interests of preventing a walkover. Hoodwink might as well not have been there, because he wasn’t within Man o’ War’s field of vision any time after the first ten yards of the race. According to the race chart, Man o’ War was under “stout restraint” during the first six furlongs, was briefly given his head coming around the final turn, and was taken in hand again well prior to the finish. Yet his time of 2:40-4/5 shattered the existing world record for a mile and five-eighths by more than four seconds, and he led Hoodwink home by an official 100 lengths. (Many, including the great turf writer Joe Palmer, felt this was a gross underestimate; Palmer thought Man o’ War had won by closer to 200 lengths.) And, as one sports writer said after the race, “He [Man o’ War] was not breathing hard enough to put out a candle.” Next on Man o’ War’s calendar was the mile and one-half Jockey Club Stakes, which would be renamed the Jockey Club Gold Cup the following year. Although the race was open to older horses (excepting geldings, which barred the doughty Exterminator), none cared to face Man o’ War at weight for age, and the only other entrant was three-year-old Damask, who was there strictly for second money. Under restraint as usual, Man o’ War won by fifteen lengths and set a new American record of 2:28-4/5 for the distance, which would stand for seventeen years until broken by his best son, War Admiral, in the Belmont Stakes. Man o’ War’s final start in a “normal” race was in the Potomac Handicap over one and one-sixteenth miles, in which he was assigned a whopping 138 pounds, the highest weight ever assigned to an American three-year-old in a race at longer than sprint distances. He was asked to concede 24 pounds to Paul Jones, winner of the Kentucky Derby and of the Suburban Handicap, in which he defeated older males; 30 pounds to Wildair, winner of the Metropolitan Handicap from his elders; and 36 to Blazes, whose jockey was unable to make his weight assignment of 102 and ended up riding two and a half pounds overweight. The track, although rated fast, was deep and tiring and was playing much slower than normal, and Samuel Riddle later confirmed what rumor had suspected, that Man o’ War injured a tendon slightly during the running of the race. Yet he won by a length and a half, never fully extended, and set a new track record into the bargain. Man o’ War’s last race, his match with 1919 Triple Crown winner Sir Barton, was almost an anticlimax. Although Sir Barton was coming off a four-race win streak, few gave him a serious chance, not least because of the hard track surface of the Kenilworth track at which the race was contested. Sir Barton had tender feet, and although he ran with tremendous courage considering the pain the track must have been causing him, the race could have only one outcome. Man o’ War winged home seven lengths in front despite restraint and shattered the Kenilworth track record for ten furlongs by 6-2/5 seconds. The race, which was worth $75,000 plus a gold cup valued at $5,000, made Man o’ War the world’s leading money winner with $249,465 to his credit. And that was it; Man o’ War would race no more. In truth, Riddle’s options were limited. He apparently never gave serious consideration to a proposed match between Man o’ War and the great gelding Exterminator, even though Colonel Matt Winn was offering a purse of $50,000 if such a match could be staged at his Churchill Downs. Weight for age races were very few in number in the early 1920s, and Walter Vosburgh, the leading handicapper of the day, had already told Riddle that, should the colt win his first start at four, his next start would see him carrying the greatest load Vosburgh had ever given a horse – as much as 145 to 150 pounds. Given that Man o’ War had already injured himself carrying 138 pounds, Riddle feared a breakdown if the horse were continually asked to carry even higher weights. The idea of going overseas to try for the Ascot Gold Cup, then Europe’s most prestigious race for older horses, had more appeal, but Riddle felt that it would keep the horse out of the stud too long – a year to make the trip and to acclimate, and another year to actually race and then come home. Thus, Man o' War ended his racing career having won 20 of 21 starts Man o’ War made his final public appearance as a racehorse on January 27, 1921, when he was galloped at the old Lexington track. He then began his stud career at Hinata Farm near Lexington, Kentucky, under the management of Elizabeth Daingerfield Man o’ War’s stud career has long been the subject of controversy, with many authorities all but accusing Samuel Riddle of blatant mismanagement of the stallion. The reality is a little more complicated. While modern lovers of the Thoroughbred may bemoan the fact that the horse was managed as a private stallion and limited to but 25 mares per year, the truth was that similar practices were actually widespread among American breeders of the time. Although Man o’ War averaged only 17.2 foals per crop, such popular stallions as *Sickle, High Time, Pompey, *Pharamond II, Blue Larkspur, and Broomstick all averaged fewer than twenty foals per crop as well, so Big Red was not out of line with his contemporaries in that regard. And most stallions of the time stood privately, accepting only limited numbers of outside mares, so that was not out of line either. The primary criticism leveled at Riddle’s management of Man o’ War has been the quality of mares that he afforded the stallion, and even this requires some examination. During the earliest years of Man o’ War’s stud career, Riddle in fact purchased a number of mares on the recommendations of William Allison and Miss Daingerfield, both noted pedigree experts, and the first five years of Man o’ War’s stud career were nothing less than incredible. His first five crops contained ninety-two named foals. Twenty-six of them won stakes events – twenty-eight percent stakes winners from foals! – and seven were commonly ranked as either champions or co-champions of their divisions: American Flag (1925 champion three-year-old male), Maid At Arms (1925 co-champion three-year-old filly), Florence Nightingale (1925 co-champion three-year-old filly), Crusader (1926 champion three-year-old male and Horse of the Year), Edith Cavell (1926 co-champion three-year-old filly), Scapa Flow (1926 champion two-year-old male), and Bateau (1928 co-champion three-year-old female and 1929 champion handicap female). Florence Nightingale, Edith Cavell, Scapa Flow, and Bateau were bred by Walter M. Jeffords, Sr., who as Riddle's nephew by marriage had a far easier time getting access to Man o' War's services than did other breeders. After that, Man o’ War cooled off. Some of his decline as a stallion can be chalked up to chance, but almost all accounts agree that as Man o’ War’s stud career progressed, Riddle became more and more convinced that he need not spend money to buy good mares, feeling that Man o’ War was so dominant that the quality of the mare did not matter. It is probably no coincidence that the two most important sons of the stallion’s later years both came from mares that were exceptions to the rule of lowered quality in the broodmare band: War Admiral was produced from Brushup, a half sister to Man o’ War’s very good son War Glory and a granddaughter of one of the original draft of mares purchased by William Allison for Riddle, while War Relic, from whom the modern line of Man o’ War descends, was produced from Friars Carse, generally acclaimed the champion juvenile filly of 1925. Man o’ War moved to Riddle’s new Faraway Farm during his second breeding season, and he remained there for the rest of his life. He eventually sired 380 foals, of which 64 became stakes winners, and became the maternal grandsire of another 128 stakes winners. He was the leading American sire of 1926, ranked among the top ten American sires on another eight occasions, and ranked among the ten leading broodmare sires no less than twenty-two times. Had he received the same careful attention to the quality and compatibility of his mates throughout his career that he got during his first few seasons in the stud, one can only speculate at what he might have accomplished. One thing Man o’ War did accomplish during his stud career was to make a celebrity of his stud groom, Will Harbut, whose name will be forever linked with his beloved “Red.” Although Harbut had little in the way of formal education, he was wise in the ways of horses and had a natural gift for rhetoric that bordered on sheer inspiration when it came to describing Man o’ War’s career and merits. His spiel varied somewhat depending on his mood and his sizing up of the audience, but it invariably ended with, “He’s got everything a hoss ought to have and he’s got it where a hoss ought to have it. He is the mostest hoss!” Lord Halifax, then the British Ambassador to the United States, after hearing Harbut’s eloquence, paid Man o’ War’s devoted friend and publicist the ultimate compliment: “That was worth coming halfway around the earth to hear.” Man o’ War was pensioned from stud service in 1943 and died on November 1, 1947, only about a month after the death of Will Harbut. The death was observed by a moment of silence at all American racetracks then operating. The first Thoroughbred to be embalmed, he was placed in a specially constructed oaken coffin and laid in state for three days in the hallway of his stable. His funeral was attended by an estimated 500 people and was broadcast on national radio. Further honors were paid by the Army’s First Cavalry Division, then stationed in Tokyo, which had given the horse the honorary rank of colonel and held a full military service for him on receiving the news of his death. Man o' War was inducted into the National Museum of Racing Hall of Fame in 1957. Even among that collection of legends, he stands apart; so great is his reputation that a panel of experts assembled by The Blood-Horse voted Man o' War the best American racehorse of the twentieth century. Man o’ War’s remains were eventually moved to the Kentucky Horse Park, where today he rests beneath the heroic bronze sculpture created by Herbert Haseltine. There, the bronze eyes still stare loftily over visitors, reminding them of the unconquered spirit of perhaps the mightiest racehorse of all time. Text © 2005 by Avalyn Hunter Artwork © 2005 by Pat DeLong. Used by permission and may not be copied or distributed in any form without the express permission of Pat DeLong. For information regarding purchases, reproductions, or licensing, please contact Pat DeLong at patdelongart@aol.com. |
