(This blog post is the second in a series of four, profiling the first horse to traverse what we now know as the Triple Crown trail. In 1918, one horse started in the Kentucky Derby, the Preakness Stakes, and the Belmont Stakes for the first time, inspiring Sir Barton’s run in all three the following year. You can read part one here.)
In 1916, A.K. Macomber sent his imported colt, Star Hawk, to the Kentucky Derby as one of the historic race’s favorites. Not quite a year into his reentry in American racing, Macomber was poised to win his first Kentucky Derby, tantalizingly close to one of those dream moments all horse owners seek. Instead, jockey Johnny Loftus on a colt named George Smith held off the driving Star Hawk in the stretch to win the Derby for owner John Sanford. Coming that close to winning the Kentucky Derby prompted Macomber to search his growing stable for another chance at the roses. He tapped War Cloud to carry the red and white Macomber stripes in the 1918 Kentucky Derby.
(This blog post is the first in a series of four, profiling the first horse to traverse what we now know as the Triple Crown trail. In 1918, one horse started in the Kentucky Derby, the Preakness Stakes, and the Belmont Stakes for the first time, inspiring Sir Barton’s run in all three the following year.)
After dominating victories in the Kentucky Derby and Preakness Stakes, Sir Barton won the Belmont Stakes on June 11, 1919, sealing America’s first Triple Crown. Sir Barton was the first to win all three, but he was not the first to run in all three classics. That distinction belongs to War Cloud, a British-bred colt owned by adventurer and financier turned breeder and owner Abraham Kingsley (A. K.) Macomber. In 1918, War Cloud’s trip through what we now know as the Triple Crown trail was a pursuit fueled by money and prestige, a chase that caught the eye of the racing industry, including Commander Ross and H.G. Bedwell.
A Little History
Prior to War Cloud, only three horses – Vagabond (1876), Hindus (1900), and Norse King (1915) – had started in the Kentucky Derby and then shipped to Baltimore (or New York, in Hindus’ case) to run in the Preakness Stakes. The Preakness and Belmont Stakes count 27 horses that were starters in both prior to 1918, aided in part by the Preakness was run in the New York area between 1890 and 1908, once at Morris Park and then at Gravesend. Apart from the races’ inconsistent scheduling, the distances between each city made owners and trainers reluctant to ship their horses – until 1918.
Instead, the Triple Crown, this now-essential test of horses, came about because of two important elements: money and prestige. A.K. Macomber, already wealthy in his own right, may not have chased the money, but he did desire the prestige that came with running his horses in the sport’s most prestigious races. And, like Sir Barton’s owner Commander Ross, he was not afraid to use his considerable fortune to make his mark on the sport forever.
In honor of Sir Barton’s 102nd birthday, I wanted to share the two clips of Sir Barton on film that I have seen. I have been working on this project for five years and these are the only two clips I’ve seen of him EVER!
The second is some footage of the 1920 Kenilworth Gold Cup, better known as the match race between Sir Barton and Man o’ War. This clip is more about Man o’ War than Sir Barton, but the footage of the match race remains the only video of that race that I know and have seen.
Previously I had talked about “The Race of the Age,” the film Educational Film Exchanges had produced after having unfettered exclusive access to the preparations for and running of the Kenilworth Gold Cup. My searches for the film have come up with no known extant copies of that film.
One hundred and two years ago, Lady Sterling dropped to the straw of the foaling stall she had been laboring in and, about two in the morning, delivered a beautiful chestnut colt, one of about a hundred born at Hamburg Place that year. The colt had a wide blaze that started high on his forehead, just under his ears, and cascaded down his lovely face, veering off over his left nostril. Half-brother to Sir Martin, the best two-year-old of 1908, the colt that would become Sir Barton was the son of Star Shoot, a descendant of an English Triple Crown winner, and Lady Sterling, a daughter of Hanover, 1887 Belmont Stakes winner. He was royally bred and, as he grew, his potential glowed.
Hamburg Place’s yearling breaker, Frank Brosche, singled him out from the beginning. When showing a visitor the yearlings at the farm in 1917, Brosche saved Sir Barton for last, calling him “the king of them all.” His breeder, John E. Madden, kept the colt in his racing stable, and, in 1918, he ran Sir Barton in a number of prestigious two-year-old races until Commander J.K.L. Ross bought the colt in August 1918. As part of Ross’s stable, Sir Barton would go on to a historic career, winning what became known as the first Triple Crown in 1919, and, in 1920, becoming the older horse tapped as rival to Man o’ War.
The story of Sir Barton and what we now know as the Triple Crown began in the wee hours of April 26, 1916, as he found his feet and stood on trembling legs, ready to make his mark as “king of them all.”
One hundred and one years ago today, Man o’ War was born at Nursery Stud near Lexington, Kentucky. His dam Mahubah was a daughter of Rock Sand, who won the English Triple Crown in 1903. His sire Fair Play was a great racehorse in his own right, never finishing out of the money in his career. His breeder August Belmont, Jr. had planned to race the colt himself, but World War I prevented him from being as involved as he would have liked. In 1918, he sold his yearlings, which included the Fair Play-Mahubah colt that his wife had named Man o’ War. At Saratoga in August 1918, Samuel Riddle bought the colt for $5,000. The colt would make nearly fifty times that in his career.
As I finish up my book on Sir Barton, I wanted to take a moment to recognize this birthday since both Sir Barton and Man o’ War touched each other’s lives in more than one way. As we remember the 20th century’s greatest horse on this 101st anniversary of his birth, I would like to recommend Dorothy Ours’s book Man o’ War: A Legend Like Lightning for those who want to learn more about the career of this larger-than-life icon of racing. I flew through Dorothy’s book like Man o’ War flew down the stretch in his duel with John P. Grier in the 1920 Dwyer Stakes.
Young William Walker (Photo from Kentucky Historical Society)
Before his Triple Crown, records, and match race with Man o’ War, Sir Barton was a part of his breeder John E. Madden’s stable, going winless in his first four starts. Madden was a prolific breeder and consummate salesman who sold almost every horse his Hamburg Place turned out by the time the colt or filly was two. In July 1918, Madden had sent the son of Star Shoot-Lady Sterling to Aqueduct for his first start. His jockey for this first start was Arthur Collins. His trainer? William S. Walker, one of the country’s greatest African American jockeys.
Walker was born a slave in 1860, on a farm outside of Versailles, KY. He started his riding career at age 11 and rode his first stakes winner at 13. Walker quickly gained a reputation for bravery, especially after a particularly perilous ride in a race the day after the first Kentucky Derby in 1875. Another African American jockey, Billy Lakeland, crowded his horse against Walker’s mount Excel, pinning them against the rail and nearly sending both horse and rider into the infield. Excel recovered, Walker sent his mount after the leaders, closing the gap to finish second by only half a length. His bravery earned him an award at a special ceremony the next day, President Meriwether Lewis Clark giving him a silk purse with $25 in recognition of his fortitude.
After riding in the first two Derbies, Billy Walker won the 1877 Kentucky Derby on Baden Baden at age 17. He retired from the saddle in 1896, parlaying the money he earned riding into real estate and then horses of his own. Walker became an owner, trainer, and a pedigree expert. He worked with John E. Madden as a breeding consultant and, in 1915, became Madden’s trainer. Walker trained Sir Barton for his first four starts in 1918, before Madden sold the son of Star Shoot to Commander Ross.
Eventually, William S. Walker left training, but continued to consult with Madden and others as they attended sales in search of good horses. In his later years, he spent time at Churchill Downs, taking up clocking workouts as a hobby. William S. Walker passed away on September 20, 1933, at age 73. He was buried in an unmarked grave in Louisville Cemetary; in 1996, Churchill Downs dedicated a large granite gravestone in Walker’s memory, memorializing the career of this pioneering African American.
In 2015, Churchill Downs named a six-furlong sprint for three-year-olds for William S. Walker. This year may also bring Walker’s induction into the National Museum of Racing and Hall of Fame, a fitting tribute to a man who did so much for this sport, including training, albeit briefly, America’s first Triple Crown winner, Sir Barton.
Sources for this blog post:
Gerald L. Smith, Karen Cotton McDaniel, John A. Hardin. The Kentucky African American Encyclopedia. Lexington, KY: University Press of Kentucky, 2015. 512-513.
Edward Hotaling. The Great Black Jockeys. Rocklin, CA: Forum (Prima Publishing), 1999. 230-237; 333-334.
When I was in 11th grade, we were required to write a formal research paper, replete with note cards, documentation style (MLA), thesis, and more. Fortunately, our teacher allowed us to pick the subject of this long-form assignment — within reason, of course. Before she had finished giving us the requirements for the paper, I already knew what I wanted to write about: the Triple Crown. The perfect subject for this racing nerd who lived in a virtual racing desert.
By this point, almost twenty years had elapsed since Affirmed, with a number of unsuccessful bids in those intervening years. I watched Sunday Silence duel for the Preakness with Easy Goer only to come up short in the Belmont. I felt the keen, gutting disappointment of watching the Derby-Preakness winner passed on the turn, in the stretch, at the wire. The distress of Charismatic’s injury. California Chrome’s mishap at the start. Each year, I hoped against hope, and, as I grew older, as I saw more of those who came so close, I began to wonder if I would be lucky enough to ever see a Triple Crown.
And then he came sweeping into our lives, the Pharoah, the ruler of the American classics. American Pharoah drew us in and never let us go, keeping us entranced by his sweet demeanor and his effortless stride. Like Secretariat, like the Affirmed-Alydar rivalry, he mesmerized us, keeping us all enthralled well past the wire.
As I finish up this book on America’s first Triple Crown winner, I grow more and more grateful for the chance to have seen American Pharaoh’s domination of the Kentucky Derby, the Preakness, and the Belmont. I cry each time I watch that stretch run, as Frosted looked like he might spoil it all and then the marvelous acceleration as American Pharoah showed us what the pinnacle of thoroughbred racing looks like, a legend in flight with each strike of his hooves on the humble earth.
Happy Birthday once again, AP. Happy birthday to the horse that hit the highest of highs and took us all with him. Once again, we celebrate you, “the horse of a lifetime.”
I first stepped onto a racetrack at age 12, thanks to my aunt Betty indulging my burgeoning interest in the sport with a trip to the Birmingham Race Course. I don’t remember much about that trip — outside of the grizzled old gamblers who thought I was some sort of betting prodigy — but I do remember the Daily Racing Forms scattered throughout the track, as ubiquitous as the discarded losing tickets. Every visit to the racetrack means a trip to the newsstand to grab the Form and consult its pages before I hand over my money for any bet, whether it’s the Preakness or the third race on a weekday at Keeneland. So, today, on the 123rd birthday of the Form, I wanted to explore the impact of this historic publication and the institution that has endeavored to preserve it.
Four years ago, the Sir Barton Project started as an idea that led to a search that then turned into the hubris necessary to think that one is the right person to take that idea to fruition. From high school to college to graduate school, I learned how to research topics of all kinds, from high literary questions to the mundane inquiries about daily tasks. When I undertook the challenging task of bringing Sir Barton’s complete story to print, I knew that the place I needed to go to find his story and to bring its scattered pieces together lay in one place: Kentucky. More specifically, the Keeneland Library and the Daily Racing Form archive.
I have spent many hours in the stacks at Keeneland, wanting to break into song at the richness of their collections. How many times have I heard “Have you been to the Keeneland Library?” as I inquire with other places about resources I’m trying to find? The Library is the first place and the best place to go whenever I need an article, a photograph, or a hard-to-find book.
In addition, the Library gave writers and researchers the most thorough collection of the essential publication for racing across history, the Daily Racing Form archive. My time on the DRF archive, searching through form charts, workout reports, and articles for horses from Sir Barton to Man o’ War to War Cloud, would probably total in years at this point. This book about Sir Barton came to be because I was able to trace the milestones of his career from the first mentions of him as a yearling up to his death in 1937 and beyond. The efforts of Becky Ryder and every person who worked on this archive have been essential to projects like mine. I cannot thank them for this resource enough.
Happy Birthday to you, Daily Racing Form, first published on this day in 1894! Thank you for bringing racing to your readers day after day for 123 years. You hold the history of racing within your pages each day, preserving it for generations of racing fans. Many thanks to the Keeneland Library as well for making the DRF‘s past available to the present and future of thoroughbred racing.
Eighty years ago yesterday, on a lonely Saturday night high in the Laramie Mountains of Wyoming, the ‘king of them all,’ as his yearling breaker had called Sir Barton, breathed his last. Far away from the crowds that had heralded his triumphs, the recurring colic that had meant long nights for the Hylton ranch took its toll on America’s first Triple Crown winner. It took nearly two weeks for the news to make it to the newspapers, and, once it did, the obituaries took interesting turns.
At times, the Kentucky-bred Sir Barton was called the ‘greatest Canadian racer of all time,’ though he only raced in Canada once and his Canadian owner kept his American horses in Maryland most of the year. Of course, ever present in each inch devoted to memorializing Sir Barton was his connection to Man o’ War. Obituaries pointed out that the first Triple Crown winner was not fit to meet his rival that day in 1920, that his career was not as stellar as Man o’ War’s, that his stud career paled next to the big red horse’s. Inaccuracies about his career popped up in some places: that Sir Barton was sold at auction when Ross broke up his stable (he wasn’t); that the match race was his last race (it wasn’t); that he had been in retirement in Wyoming since his career ended (he hadn’t).
Nowhere in these inches did the Triple Crown, which had its fourth winner in 1937, come up. Such misstatements and omissions continued the thousand small cuts to the reputation of the horse that pioneered the greatest pursuit in thoroughbred racing, a sad way to send Sir Barton off into history.
Half a year later, Margaret Phipps Leonard published a laudatory look at Sir Barton in The Horse, published by the American Remount Association. As the most famous horse to ever grace the rolls of the Remount, it was only fitting that the ARA would honor Sir Barton’s passing with this look at his life, sharing new details about the horse that had stood in the shadow of his Big Red rival for so long. My favorite? While standing stud at Audley, Sir Barton had accidentally kicked one of his grooms during his daily dressing down. As soon as he had kicked, Sammy (Sir Barton’s nickname from his racing days) jumped over and looked at the groom with an apology in his eyes. Sir Barton might have been more horse than pet, but he was as brilliant off the track as he was on it.
Eighty years ago, we said goodbye to Sammy. In spring 2019, we will say hello to him again in the pages of ‘Sir Barton and the Birth of the American Triple Crown’ (tentative title) from the University Press of Kentucky.