On June 2 Murphy reported to Morris Park, where he raced in two sweepstakes for two different owners. In the third race, a sweepstakes worth $950 for maiden two-year-olds, Isaac took the second-place prize of $100 on M. Daly's Gold Dollar. In the fifth race, a sweepstakes for three-year-olds and older, he came in second on J. B. Haggin's Fitzjames. A few days later he rode Gold Dollar in the Juvenile Stakes for two-year-olds, placing third behind Marty Bergan on J. Hunter's Hoodlum and Anthony Hamilton, on August Belmont's St. Charles.
Writers such as Broad Church recognized that Hamilton and other “prominent jockeys in the West” were having a tremendous impact on horse racing and looked to dominate the eastern competition.21 Other newspapers took notice of black jockeys' success as professionals:
The first question a betting man asks about to select a horse to carry his money is, “Who has the mount?” If it is a jockey of ability, such as Barnes, Garrison or Murphy, he will probably be satisfied to risk his dust on his selection, but if it is a mere stable lad who holds the reins he will fight shy perhaps. Thus it is seen that three little rugged, tanned and wizened bits of humanity are to a great extent autocrats of the turf. Pikey Barnes, Isaac Murphy and George Anderson are three such cracks. They are “black and tans,” in other words negroes; but how they can ride! And honest riders they are too. They know that in the skill of their hands and in the alertness of their brains and eyes rest many a time the fate of fortunes, and they seldom abuse the confidence placed in them.22
That the writer commented on the jockeys' blackness is not surprising, given the racial animosity instigated by weary whites posing the race question and anxious immigrants seeking to eliminate black competition from the marketplace. The writer may have been ignorant of the fact that blacks had been a part of horse racing in the United States since its beginning. Only recently had jockeys' work become more prestigious, based solely on the amount of money they could earn and the amount of money made by winning owners in stakes races, such as the American Derby, the Kenner and Travers Stakes, and the Suburban, and in match races, where tens of thousands of dollars could be won or lost. Black jockeys' earning capacity and public prominence would soon cause a firestorm of jealousy.
The problem with horse racing, as Isaac soon learned, was not caused by old money and the men who carried on the genteel tradition of horse ownership in his home state of Kentucky as a matter of prestige and pride. The problem was the men who sought to profit from horse racing by any means, both legal and illegal. The old way, based on Southern traditions of honor and gentlemanly decorum (and connected to the abuses of slavery), was fading into memory. The new era, based on the Northern industrial environment and the conflicts between capital and labor, was opportunistic and fraught with corruption, especially in New York. This dishonesty would consume the spectator sport and eventually cause its downfall.
For Isaac, however, New York was where he had to be for the spring racing season. He would not score a victory at Morris Park until June 12, riding (at 122 pounds) the Hough brothers' Come to Taw in the mile-and-a-half sweepstakes. His second victory came on the same day in the Trial Stakes for three-year-olds on another of the Hough brothers' horses, Burlington. Compared with some of the other jockeys—both up-and-comers and veterans—Isaac had fewer mounts, but his winning ratio was unmatched, especially in the big stakes races.
Haggin hired Murphy to ride in several important races, including the Suburban Handicap scheduled for June 17 at the Coney Island Jockey Club at Sheepshead Bay. On the day of the race, the grounds were overflowing with a multitude of individuals described as “an incongruous, motley mixture” from every station in American life. “Down through the yawing gate the crowd rushed, ran the gauntlet of blind beggars and brazen-lunged touts, and spread without stem into the grand stand, the betting ring, and the paddock,” where the horses and stable boys were showcased as they prepared for the race.23 Among the 30,000 spectators were politicians, men of the turf, and the very wealthy mingling with working-class commoners and the misfits of society who were barely scraping by—all anticipating a battle between well-bred animals and talented jockeys. Of the nine horses in the race, only one would be crowned champion, and only one jockey would be draped with a floral horseshoe and carried off on the shoulders of envious stable boys amid the cheering of spectators and the playing of “Hail to the Chief.”
Sometime before the race, Isaac would have studied the track at Sheepshead Bay, analyzing its turns and straightaways, before retrieving his silks and dressing in the jockeys' room. If he was a little heavy, he might have gone for a long walk, hoping to shed a pound or two, or maybe he just sat in the jockeys' room awaiting the call to the post. Despite the pressure to win big races like the Suburban, Isaac rarely showed that stress in his body or on his face. His stoic demeanor could have been interpreted as self-assurance, which he transferred to the horse. Nothing could have been more indicative of a man in total control of his destiny than Murphy in the saddle before a race. Everything about him exuded confidence—or arrogance, depending on one's perspective.
Under threatening gray skies, racing fans continued to fill the horse park. A portion of the crowd gravitated toward the betting ring, where they exchanged thousands of dollars for the chance to attain instant wealth based on the outcome of the race featuring Raceland, Salvator, Firenzi, and Tenny. According to the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, “the track is in perfect condition, and if the stories told in the paddock are true the record for a mile and a quarter may be broken.”24 The paper reported that Salvator was a favorite among the trainers who had seen him run his trials on Sunday afternoon, but it failed to mention that the jockey riding Salvator was Isaac Murphy. It was not unusual for the popular media to omit the accomplishments of black men and women in an attempt to protect whites from the pain of seeing former slaves rise above their circumstances. Black success did not bolster the argument that the Negro was doomed to be ignorant, savage, and servile and therefore in need of white guidance and deserving of white brutality. The more unbiased New York Times recognized Murphy as a talented individual who had added considerable value to the national pastime.25 Indeed, he was a hero to whites as well as blacks, especially those who appreciated masterful riding and horsemanship and enjoyed winning money.
When Isaac guided Salvator out of the paddock and past the grandstand and the railbirds, “there was an outbreak of applause and cheers” as the pair worked their way to the starting post. After several false starts, the race began with Murphy toward the rear of the group. The pace was set by Cassius, who got away quickly and, after the “first eighth of a mile,” started to pull away from the pack. Salvator, Tenny, and Firenzi were near the rear of the bunch until after the first turn, when Tenny's rider Garrison swung wide in an effort to claim the front and quicken the pace. Fans in the stands and the infield shouted for their favorites: “Cassius wins! They'll never catch him!” “Come on, my Tenny. Oh! Come on!” “Where is Raceland? I can't find him!” “Damn Longstreet.”26
As the horses approached the homestretch, the crowd continued to cheer. According to the Brooklyn Eagle, Murphy used his “calm sense of superiority, to edge to the inside rail and work his way up to Cassius until they were running stride for stride.27 Then, when Taral swung wide on Cassius, Isaac shot through the opening. Isaac maintained control of his horse until the end, when, with just a little encouragement, Salvator extended half a length ahead of Cassius and three lengths ahead of Tenny. Believing that Murphy had a penchant for close finishes, the media criticized him for cutting the race too close to show off for the grandstand—something he was often accused of.28 But the public came to see fast-moving animals being steered around the track by daredevils in the saddle; they were less interested in strategists calculating when to move against their opponents.
The Brooklyn Eagle attributed the win largely to Salvator himself:
Owners and backers of the Suburban winner were fortunate in the excellent training Salvator has received, in
the wide experience and marvelous skill of Isaac Murphy, his rider and more than all else, in the vast reserve powers of speed and endurance in the animal himself. The big chestnut colt bore the brunt of the battle without quaking. For him steel and catgut had no terrors. He carried, like a valiant soldier, the heat and burden of the day and he won for himself, not only a high place on the tablets of terrestrial fame but an ultimate retreat in the higher sphere to which the good horses go when they die.29
But Murphy had proved time and time again that breeding alone did not guarantee victory. It took great skill to train a horse and prepare it for success. Although owners and trainers certainly wanted to assume that a horse could win regardless of the jockey, they could not deny that the jockey had to know where to put the horse during a race. Murphy knew how to get the best out of a horse, how to use its innate talent, how much to push, and how much to save for future contests. Isaac was a professional through and through. Regardless of whether he used close finishes to his advantage, he would maintain under cross-examination that he rode to win—no more, no less.
The day after the race, David Pulsifer, Tenny's owner, proposed a rematch with Salvator and Cassius at $5,000 a side; the Coney Island Jockey Club offered an additional $5,000, making the prize a staggering $20,000. Haggin agreed to a race but did not want to include Cassius. He preferred to match Salvator and Tenny at the Sheepshead Bay course for a winner-take-all prize of $15,000. The Coney Island Jockey Club agreed to host the match race, recognizing the contest's appeal to “race goers all over the country.”30 As it turned out, this would be one of the most important races in the career of Salvator, the four-year-old believed to be without peer, and one of the most important races in the career of Isaac Murphy, his jockey.
On June 25, under a hot sun and with a soft breeze coming from the west, 12,000 to 15,000 spectators turned out to see the match race between Tenny and Salvator at Sheepshead Bay. The race promised to set the record straight on several fronts: which was the better horse; who was the better breeder, Pulsifer or Haggin; and who was the better jockey, Isaac Murphy or Ed “Snapper” Garrison. Clearly, in late-nineteenth-century America, and in New York in particular—where immigrants and native whites aggressively and without shame or remorse excluded blacks from American life—the race between Salvator and Tenny had racial implications. The fear of losing to someone who was considered inferior in every way was a threat to the “authentic” definition of American manhood and manliness. Athletes like John L. Sullivan and Adrian “Cap” Anson, both of whom refused to compete against “niggers,” were praised by white men who advocated exclusion as a means to protect their income-earning ability as well as their identity.31 Was this fear on the mind of Ed Garrison or on the minds of those white men who came to see him compete in this head-to-head contest? If Murphy beat him, what would that say about Garrison's masculinity and about blacks in general?
Thanks in part to artists such as Thomas Nast and publishers such as Currier and Ives, there is no doubt that representations of African Americans had become more caricature than truth. Isaac Murphy was a living, breathing embodiment of the contradictions inherent in racial stereotypes, yet popular advertisements of black jockeys with big wide eyes and huge red lips prevailed. It is not clear whether Isaac understood the full implications of the race, but it can be assumed there were people in the stands, both black and white, who did. Indeed, both sides would come to understand that in the fight for racial destiny, every public social, political, and economic victory counted. What seemed to be only a horse race was in fact a very serious contest.
With the grandstand and the grounds abuzz and the betting public wagering on the outcome, Garrison and Murphy took to the track with their capable horses beneath them. The Louisville Courier-Journal reported that Garrison “appears to be confident in winning, for he nods and smiles in a satisfied way at some of his admirers,” whereas the serious Murphy galloped past the grandstand toward the starting post, looking “neither to the right or left” with a “do or die expression on his face.” Right before the race, a heckler shouted to Isaac, “No grand stand finish today, Isaac: the Snapper's a hard one when it comes to a fight.” Apparently, Isaac limited his response to a stoic smile and a sphinxlike gaze out onto the track as he awaited the starter's instructions.32
At the sight of the red flash emanating from the hand of the starter, Mr. Caldwell, both jockeys got away evenly on the first attempt. In a thunderous chorus, the crowd shouted the customary, “They're off!” Taking the inside first, Garrison tried to keep Tenny in the perfect position for the race, but the swaybacked horse could not maintain the lead after the first turn. Isaac charged forward at trainer Matt Byrnes's signal, opening a gap of as much as three lengths. The calculated dash put Salvator in front and helped him secure the inside rail, which he held for the entire race. Even as Garrison gave chase around the second turn and into the straight, Murphy knew exactly where the competition was at all times, anticipating his moves like a chess master. Keeping Salvator where he needed him, the Kentucky jockey outrode and outsmarted his white counterpart, at one point leading by four lengths.
As the horses entered the homestretch, Isaac remained cool and composed while Garrison began to beat Tenny frantically, trying to gain the lead. With spurs and catgut working on the sides and hindquarters of his horse, Garrison closed the gap and looked to pass Salvator. As they approached the wire, shouts went up, “Tenny wins, Tenny wins,” “Dead heat, dead heat.” Without flash or flurry, Isaac continued to ride straight as a dart through the finish line, with only a few inches determining winner and loser and “the disposition of…vast sums of money.” With the exception of Murphy and the judges, very few were sure of the outcome until the name of the horse, the jockey, and the official time were posted on the board: Salvator; Murphy; 2:05.33 That was a new record for the mile and a quarter, knocking 1.5 seconds off the time set by the Dwyer brothers' Kingston, which Isaac had ridden to several victories the previous season.
One observer who could judge the outcome with pinpoint accuracy was the official photographer of the Coney Island Jockey Club, John C. Hemment. Using a “#2 Beck Lens with an open stop,” Hemment captured the horses in stride as they reached the finish line; Murphy was still upright and relaxed, while Garrison leaned forward over Tenny's neck, riding like the devil in heat.34 In what historian Ed Hotaling identifies as horse racing's first photo finish, it is clear that Murphy's masterful riding culminated in Salvator's victory over Tenny. Unfortunately, fans of the Tenny-Garrison combination lost tens of thousands of dollars. Plunger Dave Johnson lost an estimated $25,000 betting on Tenny over a series of races, and Kentucky horseman Green B. Morris was another big loser. After the race, Morris chastised Garrison for letting Murphy have the inside rail: “You had no business giving him anything. The horse that gets anything from one of my horses in a match has got to fight for it.” Garrison explained that he was only following the trainer's instructions, and Morris was “shaken with rage” when he heard that. “If you rode to orders,” he exclaimed, “all I've got to say is they were damned bad orders.”35 There was additional criticism of Garrison's riding:
Henry Clay Ditmas, who is abundantly able to do all he says, remarked, after the race: “I'm willing to put up $10,000 on Tenny for another match with Salvator, to be run in the next two weeks. I think Tenny, properly ridden, can beat him…. Said a Salvator man: “if the race had been ridden from ‘end to end,’ as Colonel Harper used to say, Tenny would have won to a moral certainty. Garrison should have made the race up the back stretch holding the rail and keeping Salvator on the outside. To give Salvator the rail voluntarily was suicidal. I never saw a more fatal mistake.”36
This was not the first time Murphy had won based on his knowledge of the habits of horses and other jockeys. In the end, Murphy's intelligence along with Salvator's talent won the race, but few could admit that. Most newspapers downplayed Murphy's part in the victory, attributing it solely to Salvator's ability: �
��Salvator is indeed king of the American turf. Wednesday afternoon at Sheepshead Bay he beat Tenny in the great $10,000 match, and made a new record at a mile and a quarter, running the distance in 2:05, cutting one and a half seconds off Kingston's record. In the Suburban he gave Tenny one pound in weight. Yesterday they ran at even weight, and the result demonstrates not only that the best horse won the Suburban, but that Salvator is probably the greatest racehorse that America has ever produced.”37 Obviously, Murphy had something to do with Salvator's success, just as Garrison had something to do with Tenny's failure, but in keeping with the tradition of sportswriting—a craft in its infancy—most writers refused to acknowledge the skill it took to ride a Thoroughbred in a high-pressure stakes race. Murphy's masterful control over the race from start to finish was omitted from the majority of articles, and despite the photo finish, he was again accused of arrogance and grandstanding for the crowd.
On July 3 the Chicago Horseman (the same publication that had called Murphy one of the best to ever ride a Thoroughbred after his American Derby win on Emperor of Norfolk in 1889) published the deprecating “Isaac Murphy's Little Joke”:
Murphy's passionate craze for a close finish has given more than one of his backers the heartache. Once upon a time it gave “Lucky” Baldwin, his employer, an ache of another sort. Two years ago Baldwin's horse Volante was to run one day at Saratoga, and Baldwin, calling Murphy up to the grand-stand, said:
“Now, look here, Murphy, I don't want any monkeying about this race—none of your sensational finishes. You just cut the old horse loose and send him along from the fall of the flag to the finish. I've got a lot of money on this race, and I don't want to be worried about the result.”
The Prince of Jockeys Page 39
