Colins Ghost

Last week, I was at a Digital Library conference in Pittsburgh populated by academics, librarians, archivists, and information scientists. About midway through the conference I felt the need for a more lively setting so I visited two local cemeteries….seriously. Actually it wasn’t a spur of the moment decision, it all started while reading the obituaries for Pittsburgh Phil a few weeks ago when I came across this in the Washington Times (February 2, 1905):

“Pittsburg, Feb. 2 — To the rest of the world George E. Smith was known as ‘Pittsburg Phil’. To his people here, those who knew him best, he was known simply as Phil and was beloved by all.

“And now, after eight years of emptiness and waiting, a beautiful $30,000 mausoleum in the Allegheny cemetery will claim its own. With that rare foresight and carefulness which marked his way through life, Phil some years ago drew the plans for his own burial house, chose the Italian marble himself and watched week after week while the workmen built the little house which at some future day would hold all that remained earthly of him. It is one of the finest bits of architecture in the cemetery and has been since its completion the source of many a jest at the expense of the plunger when he made his annual visits to his people here.

“It was only by accident that Phil’s idea of having a nice and neat resting place for his body was discovered. In the fall, about eight years ago, John Staley and some other friends of the plunger crossing the cemetery came on Smith superintending a party of men at work on a mausoleum.

“‘What are you doing,’ said Mr Staley to Phil.

“‘Don’t you see,’ grunted Phil nodding toward the beautiful structure of marble which was beginning to take definite shape.

“‘Who’s it for,’ continued Staley referring to the mausoleum.

“‘Me.’

“‘You’re not thinking of dying are you Phil?’

“‘Got to some time,’ said the famous plunger as he sat down on a block of marble and discussed the hereafter. He had always had a horror of the earth and had early in success decided that a beautiful mausoleum would be his as soon as he could get time to build it. It could wait after completing until he was ready to occupy it.

“And since it was completed Phil has not missed a year in which he did not visit it and see that the sexton had kept it well fixed up. The sexton was his pensioner, and was paid more than well for attending to the mausoleum against the time that Phil should be carried into it.”

Being in Pittsburgh with a few hours to kill I thought finding the final resting place of Pittsburgh Phil might make for an interesting adventure. Using the above as a guide, I started my search at the Allegheny Cemetery which turned out to be the wrong place. The helpful folks in the administrative office there gave me the number to the Uniondale Cemetery which in 1905 was located in Allegheny City (the area was annexed by the city of Pittsburgh in 1907).

Across town I went and the hunt was worth the time. I called Pittsburgh Phil the founding father of horseplayers in a previous post and like all worthy founding fathers he has been immortalized in stone (on his dime of course but still…). Just think this might be the fate of all horseplayers without the high takeout. Here are a few of the photographs I took of his mausoleum:

The site sits on a hill looking down at a Shell station on the corner of Brighton and Marshall Avenue in North Pittsburgh

When I first saw “Pace” above the door I thought it was a horse racing reference….”Reqviescant in Pace” is Latin for “Rest in Peace” (R.I.P.)

Dressed for success in his high collar, waist coat, and thick watch fob but, interestingly, no hat.

Is that a racing form? If so, it is the only indication of George E. Smith’s vocation found at his grave site

NOTES

Google map with the location of Uniondale Cemetery, the site of Pittsburgh Phil’s final resting place.

“Pittsburg Phil Buried; Immense Crowd at Cemetery Despite a Heavy Snowstorm“, New York Times, Febuary 6, 1905 (free registration required)

“Remarkable Career of Pittsburg Phil“, Washington Times, February 2, 1905

“I got the horse right here : Appreciating 100 years of the Daily Racing Form” by Frank Deford (Sports Illustrated, August 31, 2005) makes an interesting mention of Pittsburg Phil

Note on the spelling of Pittsburgh — Pittsburgh as in “Pittsburg Phil” drops the “h” (explained here). In a previous post, I used the 1905 spelling throughout but here I kept the portions from the newspaper as is but used the corrected version everywhere else.

Thanks for reading!

As Congress points its uninformed finger at thoroughbred racing this week, I thought it might be appropriate to take a look at the sad end to the aptly named Dark Secret. I revive the story for few reasons. From an historical perspective, their is nothing new about the uniquely tragic aspect of horse racing — even at the height of its popularity, horses broke down. It is a part of the game that will never be completely eliminated. To be a horse racing fan means justifying and accepting its darker side.

At its worst, outsiders view racing as a gaggle of wealthy owners, crooked trainers, and heartless gamblers who care nothing about the welfare of the animal. I would argue that, in the majority of cases, the exact opposite is true. One of the things that will be missed during the congressional proceedings is the fundamental connection that most racing people feel for racehorses.

Jimmy Breslin’s description of Dark Secret’s demise in his biography of Sunny Jim Fitzsimmons encapsulates all that I love and hate about the great sport of kings. It captures the glory of the thoroughbred in competition as well the emotion and anger that stirs when a horse breaks down.

Dark Secret being led by Wheatley’s Stables, Ogden Mills, after his 1933 Gold Cup victory.
New York Times, Sept 17, 1933

A little background on Dark Secret: He was the son of 1925 Kentucky Derby winner Flying Ebony. In 1933, he won the Manhattan Handicap at a mile-and-half and the Jockey Club Gold Cup at two miles. After winning the Manhattan, the New York Times called Dark Secret “a menace to Equipoise’s supremacy in the handicap division.” (Equipoise was Horse of the Year in 1932 and 1933.) A few weeks later he beat Equipoise in the Jockey Club Gold Cup. In 1934, he won the Manhattan again and also repeated his win in the Gold Cup but broke down tragically after crossing the finish line. Here is how Jimmy Breslin described Dark Secret’s courageous final run:

“In 1934, when he was having trouble with Omaha, then a 2-year-old, Mr. Fitz ["Sunny Jim" Fitzsimmons] had a barn full of horses who could run. One was Faireno, owned by [William] Woodward, and the winner of the 1932 Belmont Stakes. The other was Dark Secret, owned by Mrs. [Gladys Mills] Phipps and Ogden Mills. Dark Secret was the outstanding distance horse in the country in 1934, and won 19 races in his career.

“On September 15, he took the track with Charley Kurtsinger on his back to run in the Jockey Club Gold Cup at Belmont, which is a two-mile race. There were only two other horses. One was Inlander, which didn’t seem to fit in, the other Faireno, whom Dark Secret had defeated in a race at Saratoga – the Saratoga Cup – a month earlier. The sky was black and a sheet of rain covered the track.

“There was a crowd of 25,000. The big event had been the Futurity, won by Chance Sun. Omaha had finished fourth. Everybody was writing about that when the three horses came up to the starting gate for the Gold Cup. The gate opened and the horses began running. It was a match race from the start. Kurtsinger got Dark Secret out first, Tommy Malley had Faireno right on him. Inlander was out of it from the first strides. The two horses ran evenly around the huge, sweeping mile-and-a-half Belmont Track, Dark Secret on the inside, Faireno, the outside. Mr. Fitz was in the grandstand at the head of the stretch, watching his two horses run. Dark Secret and Faireno settled down into a duel of legs and lungs and hearts. These were two thoroughbreds out to do exactly what they were born for, and there was to be no stopping. Dark Secret kept in front, now by a half length, now by a length as Faireno held on. At the top of the stretch they started to pick up the pace. Malley’s right arm began to go up and down as he whacked Faireno. The horse lowered his belly, as race people say, and came on. Alongside him, Dark Secret picked up. His stride lengthened and came faster. This was one hell of a race and the crowd started to pick it up. The roar started way up the track, when the people in the grandstand saw the two begin their charge. Then it rolled through the stands and now the whole of Belmont Park was roaring. The two horses came down the stretch, with Faireno’s nose now even with Dark Secret’s flank. Both had come nearly two miles, but they were running straight, and harder every step. Kurtsinger had his face buried in Dark Secret’s mane, his arms pumping forward with everything he had in his little body. He was trying to get home a winner and he was oblivious to everything else. But as they neared the wire Kurtsinger felt a lurch. Dark Secret had bowed a tendon in his right front leg. Dark Secret faltered. But only for a tiny piece of a second. So tiny only Mr. Fitz remembers seeing him do it. Then Dark Secret reached out with his injured right leg again and one thousand pounds of horse and Charley Kurtsinger’s 118 pounds and the saddle and the lead pads all came down on the torn ligaments. He swayed. He kept going. He was a race horse, he was racing. He was not going to stop until he was finished with what he was supposed to do. His feet slammed into the mud, his body strained, his head bucked up and down and he kept even with Faireno. He had the kind of pain you do not live with. But with yards to go Dark Secret kept charging while Faireno flew. He had to catch the crippled horse. But Dark Secret did not stop until he had his nose laid out so everybody could see he was the winner. Then he stopped. His right leg shattered directly under the finish line. Kurtsinger tumbled off, picked himself up and looked.

“Belmont Park was silent. The rain beat down on Dark Secret’s back as he hobbled in the mud. The rain dripped from his coat. But he was up. He was up straight, looking up the track. And his head was high, as high as a proud thoroughbred can hold it. He had won the race.”

SIDENOTE: The New York Times described the scene as follows: “The joy of turf devotees over the get of a crack thoroughbred doing so well was stalled a few moments later when the Wheatley Stable’s [illegible] Dark Secret, broke his leg a stride after he crossed the line a victor in the Jockey Club Gold Cup Race for a second straight year….There was a gasp from the thousands watching as the famous son of Flying Ebony sprawled a split second after the finish. He steadied himself on three legs, and then pulled up, his right foreleg dangling at the fetlock”

Breslin continues:

“The got a van onto the track and a groom helped Dark Secret limp into it. Then they took him to a barn where the veterinarian could look at him. When Mr. Fitz got there, Ogden Mills and Mrs. Phipps were standing with the veterinarian and the man was leaning over and looking at Dark Secret’s leg. Grooms held the horse tightly so he wouldn’t rear and kick out in pain. Then the vet straightened up.

“‘The leg is completely smashed.’

“‘Can I do anything with him?’ Mr. Fitz asked.

“‘He’d suffer too much’ the vet said. ‘Gangrene would set in. You can’t help him at all.‘

“‘All right,’ Mr. Fitz said. The others nodded, too. There was nothing to talk about. The horse had run himself to death.

“The vet reached into his bag for a needle with which he would inject poison into Dark Secret’s blood stream. It would kill him immediately, Mr. Fitz didn’t even ask what it was. He asked the guy to wait for a minute. Then he started walking away. Mills called just a minute, to Mr. Fitz. He walked away, too.

“‘Me and him, we just walked away,’ Mr Fitz says. ‘I wasn’t going to look at that.’

In the newspapers the next day, Dark Secret got a couple of paragraphs at the tail end of the stories about the Futurity, which was a very important race because there was a lot of money in it for the winner. Dark Secret’s victory was only worth $6500 and that didn’t make him very important at all.”

NOTES

For one of the most elegant pieces ever written about horse racing, read W.C. Heinz’s “Death of a Racehorse.” Check it out in its entirety at Steve Byk’s DerbyTrial.com:

My fellow bloggers at the Thoroughbred Bloggers Alliance have done an outstanding job commenting on some of the issues surrounding the congressional hearings. Here are a few worth a look:
That’s Amore Stable
Brooklyn Backstretch
Equispace
Left at the Gate

I have also found (thanks to equidaily) a report on catastrophic injuries posted at www.thehorse.com that is particularly educational. And, of course, Matt Hegarty at DRF

SOURCES

Breslin, Jimmy, Sunny Jim: The life of America’s most beloved horseman, James Fitzsimmons (1962) Doubleday & Company, Inc.

New York Times, September 16, 1934
New York Times, September 13, 1934
New York Times, September 17, 1933
New York Times, September 14, 1933
[The above were accessed on microfilm at the Wilmington Public Library]

Thanks for reading!

“This was perhaps the ultimate proof that the Triple Crown must be approached with the utmost respect.” — “Trainer Dutrow eats crow after Big Brown busts at Belmont”, Pat Forde, ESPN.COM

Big Brown proved on Saturday that the racing gods are alive and well and as nasty as ever to those with short memories and disrespect for the great history of the game. Heading home from Belmont on Saturday (at a steady 10mph across the Belt Parkway) it occurred to me that Big Brown’s failure to win the Triple Crown was nowhere near the disappointment of Smarty Jones Belmont miss in 2004. The reasons are obvious. While I was pulling for the horse, the arrogance of his connections made the result easy to swallow. I’m not the only one, as many seem to be breathing a sigh of relief, as opposed to expressing disbelief, at the inexplicable performance of Rick Dutrow’s horse.

Here are some photographs from Saturday:

The calm before the storm

The camera stand that spooked Big Brown? (Read the story here)

The trophy table

Spots in the shade….good thinking

The crowd a few hours before the big race

Thors Echo on track for the True North (one of my many losers on the day)

Filing onto the turf for the Manhattan

Better Talk Now gets a push into the gate

Big Brown gets his head in front of Da’Tara for the last time heading towards the gate

Crowd tries to figure out “what the hell just happened” after the Belmont Stakes

The winner’s circle

Nick Zito and Alan Garcia pose with their rich friends

Smile!

Nick Zito, Mike Lupica, Steve Haskin, and Robert LaPenta exiting the winner’s circle

The (presumably) self-appointed Miss Belmont Stakes tries to make sense of it all

The end…even with a difficult day at the windows and an anti-climatic Belmont Stakes it was a great Saturday. It was hot and crowded but an excellent day of racing. Their is nothing like watching the races with a real crowd. I also had the opportunity to meet some of my fellow bloggers from the TBA.

This Triple Crown season made me appreciate how good it was last year. Let’s hope for a more competitive (and less controversial) crop in 2009. Looking forward to Saratoga…I will be there opening weekend. Back to the history posts next week, I am working on a piece about the Havre de Grace racetrack that I promised a few weeks ago. Thanks for reading…