To Native Dancer’s legion of supporters, the surprising finish underlined the notion that Dark Star’s Derby victory had been a fluke ordained by racing luck. “Native Dancer lies over anything this generation of three-year-olds has to offer, and as long as he remains racing sound, we are certain he will continue to dominate the division,” Morning Telegraph columnist Evan Shipman wrote. “We’re expecting the grey to win the Preakness with the same authority he showed in the Withers.”
Dark Star’s supporters argued that it was silly to ascribe any meaning to the results of the Preakness Prep, because Moreno hadn’t gone to the whip in the stretch, obviously preferring to save the colt’s best effort for his rematch with the Dancer in the Preakness. Either way, Charles Hatton of the Morning Telegraph wrote that the Preakness, “one of the most interesting in memory,” would settle the argument.
The Grey Ghost arrived at Pimlico Tuesday afternoon, greeted by the usual hordes of newsmen and curious horsemen. Still known as Old Hilltop even though Vanderbilt had razed its infield hill in the 1930s, Maryland’s premier track was struggling through the postwar racing boom, with crowds and betting down. But Preakness week was always a high time regardless of Pimlico’s circumstances; with the nation’s top three-year-olds on the grounds, the anticipation of Saturday’s crowd, and spring blooming on the Chesapeake Bay, the track’s humdrum daily existence was forgotten, however briefly.
The local sports public was in an expansive mood. Baltimore, a gritty port city that had long languished in the shadow of nearby Washington, D.C., was bustling with growth and optimism. A new, image-enhancing airport had opened, and a modern sports stadium had already lured a National Football League franchise, the Colts, to town, with major league baseball also reportedly on the way back after a fifty-year hiatus. (The St. Louis Browns would morph into the Baltimore Orioles by the end of the year.) The Dancer was claimed as a native son coming home, even though he had been foaled in Kentucky and raced out of New York. “The grey colt is a tremendous favorite with Marylanders,” the Baltimore Sun’s Snowden Carter wrote, “not only because of his ability and the hard luck he encountered during the rough-run Derby, but because he will be retired to Sagamore Farm.”
The colt made his first appearance on the racing strip Wednesday morning, galloping twice around a track left muddy from overnight rains. The trainers of several other Preakness horses were also out. “Look at that big horse! There oughta be a law making a horse like that give weight to my little one,” said Clyde Troutt, the trainer of Royal Bay Gem, within earshot of an Associated Press reporter.
Troutt was still shaking his head about the Derby. “It was a shame for a horse like that to be beaten—just one of those unlucky breaks,” the trainer said. “But he looks fitter now than at the Derby. He appeared a little drawn in Louisville.”
Shortly after the Dancer’s arrival, Jamie K.’s trainer, John Partridge, led his colt onto the track for the first time. Eddie Hayward,
the trainer of Dark Star, called out to Partridge, “Hey, John, the grey horse is out.”
“You mean his horse [Jamie K.] might get an inferiority complex?” a reporter asked.
“Sure—I got my horse on and off for that reason,” Hayward said with a smile.
A thick fog hung over the track Thursday morning as the Dancer and Jamie K. went through their final workouts before Saturday’s race. The Dancer covered six furlongs in 1:11⅗, an impressive time, especially with Bernie Everson never asking him to exert himself. As the colt was leaving the track, Jamie K. was just finishing a five-furlong work in 1:01⅖—not bad, either. The colt Arcaro would ride in the Preakness was a long shot, but he was tall and light-waisted and had recently exhibited a strong finishing kick; Partridge had figured out that he gave his best effort when allowed to settle gradually out of the starting gate. Teamed with Arcaro, who could provide the subtle handling required, Jamie K. might be a threat.
More rain soaked the city Thursday, but the clouds gave way to sunshine by Saturday. Although the forecast still included the possibility of rain, the Preakness, like the Derby, would be run in fine weather, on a perfect track. Winfrey arrived at the barn early and hopped on a chestnut stable horse to oversee the Dancer’s morning exercise. Lester Murray removed the heavy cotton “standing bandage” from each of the colt’s legs and put on lighter elastic wrappings for the gallop. Everson took him out and jogged him around the oval, asking for a harder run over the final fifty yards. The colt was then returned to the barn, and his wrappings changed again.
“How did he feel?” a reporter asked Everson.
“Real nice,” the exercise rider replied.
Baltimoreans had many options to choose from in deciding what to do that Saturday. They could take in a movie, choosing among such films as Titanic, starring Clifton Webb and Barbara Stanwyck, and Moulin Rouge, starring JosÉ Ferrer. They could take a car trip to the Eastern Shore, crossing the Chesapeake Bay on the glistening Bay Bridge, which had opened the year before. They could go for a swim at Carlin’s amusement park, eat a club steak for fifty-one cents at the Oriole Cafeteria, dance to the music of Lou Mellon and his orchestra, or stay home and watch CBS’s telecast of the Preakness, with Bryan Field calling the race and Red Smith, the newspaper columnist, handling the interviews.
Sunny weather and the Dancer lured more than 30,000 to Pimlico, the crowd filling the grandstand and spilling over into the infield. Politicians and lions of society mingled in the Old Clubhouse, with the dignitaries including J. Edgar Hoover, four members of President Eisenhower’s cabinet, and numerous senators and congressman such as the infamous Senator Joe McCarthy of Wisconsin, who refused to pose for photographers.
The gates to the track opened at 11 A.M., and long lines formed at the betting windows before the first race at 2 P.M. After the race, the Preakness band, dressed in red coats, white caps, and blue trousers, paraded through the stretch playing a Sousa march, with five police horses high-stepping in front. The band settled in the infield and spent the afternoon playing “Dixie,” Gene Autry’s “Boots and Saddles,” and other songs traditionally heard on race day. Favorites dominated the early races, and the betting was heated. Even though the crowd was far smaller than the record Preakness crowd of 42,000, it would wager, by the end of the day, almost $2.28 million, the most in Maryland history for a single day of racing.
The Dancer was listed in the program as a 4-5 choice, but he was 1–9 when Pimlico’s new tote board blinked on before the Preakness, with Dark Star next at 2-1 and the rest of the field in double digits. The support for the Dancer would continue right up until post time: almost $700,000 was bet on the race, shattering by more than $200,000 the prior record for wagering on a single race in Maryland, and remarkably, 78 percent was on the Dancer. Surprisingly, Dark Star wasn’t even the second choice, going to the post at odds of 11.3-1, slightly behind Royal Bay Gem at 11.2–1. So much was wagered on the Dancer that the tote board ran out of room to reflect the totals. In the eyes of the public, the colt was virtually a lock to win.
Guerin admitted later that the Derby was still haunting him, and he felt a sizable burden. The Dancer couldn’t lose again with the public so clearly announcing it believed Dark Star’s victory had been a fluke. The Grey Ghost had to win the Preakness, and for that to happen, Guerin had to furnish a smart ride over the race’s mile and three-sixteenths—a sixteenth shorter than the Derby. He was operating with no margin for error.
Winfrey mentioned none of that in the paddock before the race. He had watched Guerin win dozens of races, large and small, and he still had confidence in Vanderbilt’s contract jockey. The trainer pointedly offered no instructions as he helped Guerin up and onto the horse’s back. Vanderbilt remained quiet as well. This was no time to imply that the jockey needed help.
Cheers rippled through the crowd as Guerin and the Dancer promenaded past the grandstand in the post parade. The band played “Maryland, My Maryland,” and last-minute gamblers fought at the windows to get their b
ets down. Seldom had any racing crowd’s allegiance been so clearly stated.
At 5:46 P.M., Eddie Blind, Pimlico’s starter, pushed the button that opened the starting gate, and out came the seven horses to a roar from the crowd. Tahitian King jumped into the lead from the far outside post, with Dark Star close behind, then Correspondent and the Dancer. The first furlongs were a sprint, with Tahitian King covering the first quarter mile in 22⅘ seconds, but Guerin kept the Dancer near the front. He was determined to stay closer to the leaders than in the Derby, and not let Dark Star, in particular, get away again.
It quickly became clear that Moreno was employing the same strategy he had used in Louisville: take the lead early, control the pace from the front, and dare the field to catch him. He moved Dark Star past Tahitian King and into the lead as they cleared the first turn and headed up the backstretch. Tahitian King held on to second, with the Dancer close behind, running easily and near the rail, in perfect position to strike. Correspondent was close behind, in fourth, and Royal Bay Gem and Jamie K. were much farther to the rear.
The horses held their positions up the backstretch and into the second turn, where Royal Bay Gem and Jamie K. began to move up and Correspondent abruptly faded; he would finish last, more than twenty lengths behind the winner, and never again display the form that had helped make him the second betting choice in the Derby.
Tahitian King also gave way on the turn, lacking the necessary stamina. Royal Bay Gem, the second betting choice, was caught in a familiar trap: he had again raced too far to the rear and now had too much ground to make up. He would finish third, no factor in the stretch.
Dark Star’s lead over Tahitian King was a length and a half after three-quarters of a mile. The Derby winner was in control of the Preakness as he moved through the second turn. When Guerin began creeping the Dancer closer, jockey Hedley Woodhouse swung Tahitian King wide and tried to block the onrushing grey colt, but Guerin avoided the roadblock and maneuvered into second coming out of the turn, a length behind Dark Star. Suddenly, the Preakness crystallized as a replay of the Derby. The Dancer was chasing Dark Star down the stretch. The public inhaled. Moreno, in a reprise of his brilliant Derby ride, had taken the lead with an early burst and seemingly slowed the pace just enough to leave Dark Star with a finishing kick. He would again be difficult to catch.
The two horses veered into the straightaway, the finish line looming in the distance, three-sixteenths of a mile away. Then, stunningly, just as the Dancer engaged him in a duel, Dark Star faltered. The Dancer gained ground with one stride, more ground with another stride, then nosed into the lead. Moreno whipped his colt mercilessly, trying to restart the engine, but it had no impact. Dark Star was fading. He had nothing left. “He was going along nice and easy, and boom, just like that, he stopped,” Moreno said later.
The crowd roared as the Grey Ghost passed his nemesis and surged into the lead. There was, for an instant, a swatch of daylight between him and the field. It was his stretch, his race, his triumph in the offing. But then another horse, a bay, made a move behind him and began to close. Instead of pulling away as Dark Star faded, the Dancer was confronted with a new challenge. The fans strained to see the jockey’s silks, or the number on the horse’s saddlecloth. Who was this late-running challenger? A heartbeat passed, and then a gasp went up.
It was Arcaro!
The Master, on Jamie K., had raced easily for a mile, settling his colt’s nerves as he lagged behind Royal Bay Gem. The two horses brought up the rear through the first turn, up the backstretch, and into the second turn, and no one was watching as Arcaro passed the flagging Correspondent and Tahitian King in the middle of the pack and surged beyond the Gem as well. Now, seemingly out of nowhere, Jamie K. was making a run at the Dancer.
In two strides, Arcaro was within a head of the Grey Ghost, racing just to the outside of the favorite as they passed the eighth pole. The subtext was delicious. Arcaro had complained all spring about the Dancer receiving too much acclaim, and now he was challenging the colt in the stretch run of the Preakness, seeking to upset the odds-on favorite with a 17-1 shot. A victory would do even more harm to the Dancer’s standing than Dark Star’s Derby surprise. Arcaro pounded Jamie K.’s flanks as they came down the stretch, and Guerin, detecting the challenge, took up his stick and pounded the Dancer, too. The situation was dangerous. The Dancer was running hard, but not too hard; his maddening habit of loafing on the lead could cost him this time with Arcaro coming after him.
The two horses ran together in the slanting late afternoon sun, casting a pair of long shadows that melded into one as they covered the final furlong. The crowd’s shriek was mirrored in living rooms across the country as a TV audience later estimated at 10 million watched the Dancer try to hang on. Guerin put his stick down, then took it up again as Arcaro continued to urge Jamie K. for more. The Dancer maintained the slimmest of leads, Jamie K. pressuring him but not drawing even as the finish line neared. Arcaro needed to make up precious inches, the final fractions of the Dancer’s lead.
Jamie K. kept coming… and failed to draw even.
Took another jump… and remained just behind the Dancer.
Frozen in position, running together, yet separated by inches, they reached the finish line.
The Dancer had held on.
Guerin and Arcaro stood up just past the wire, signaling to their horses that the serious running was done. Jamie K. kept digging until he nosed past Native Dancer heading into the turn. Some observers would refer to that when the two met again in the Belmont Stakes three weeks later, believing Jamie K. would have completed the upset and won the Preakness with a few extra strides. Other observers disagreed. “I thought at the time that it was Guerin’s supreme confidence that made the Preakness close,” recalled Joe Tannenbaum, who covered the race for the Miami Daily News. “Guerin didn’t seem to put Native Dancer to a furious drive until maybe midstretch. Otherwise his victory may have been a little more decisive.”
Decisive it wasn’t—but a victory it was, and an immensely popular one. The crowd stood and cheered as the grey colt was ridden back in front of the grandstand, where Lester Murray snapped the shank on him and Harold Walker led him toward the winner’s enclosure. Vanderbilt led a joyous rush to the winner’s circle. “He cut it a little close, didn’t he?” the smiling owner shouted to reporters as he waited for the trophy ceremony to begin.
“What was the difference between this race and the Derby?” a newsman asked.
“Well,” Vanderbilt replied, “we won this one and we didn’t win that one.”
Guerin hopped off the Dancer wearing a huge smile, his relief apparent as he accepted congratulations from Vanderbilt in the winner’s circle. Hundreds of fans rushed to the entrance of the enclosure and fanned out along the fence as track police stood guard. The Dancer stood calmly amid the tumult. The Woodlawn Vase, an ornate silver trophy standing two feet high, was presented to Vanderbilt, who posed for the win picture with Jeanne, Winfrey, Guerin, Maryland governor Theodore McKeldin, Pimlico president C. C. Boshamer, and U.S. treasury secretary George Humphrey. Red Smith arrived with a microphone and a camera crew and went down the line asking questions televised nationally on CBS.
“When did you hear Jamie K. coming?” Smith asked Guerin.
Before answering, the jockey greeted his young son, Ronnie, then fielded the question.
“I heard him coming soon enough,” he said.
“Were you worried?” Smith asked.
“I wasn’t,” Guerin said. “We went to the front a little sooner than I wanted. Dark Star stopped and I found myself on the lead. But he was holding Jamie K. safe at the end. He responded when I asked.”
Next up, Winfrey admitted he was more worried than Guerin at the end. “The race was a little tight there, Red; Jamie K. surprised me,” the trainer told Smith. Vanderbilt repeated the theme in his interview with Smith: “I didn’t think Jamie K. would get that close to my horse. He’s dead game and better than I thought But
I’m really proud of my horse, trainer, my jock, groom, farm, and everything else.”
Vanderbilt was in high spirits. When Ralph Kercheval joined the celebration, Smith asked, on the air, if that was the man who had raised Native Dancer. Vanderbilt replied, “Yes, Ralph Kercheval raised the horse. And Mrs. Vanderbilt raised me!”
When CBS’s cameras were turned off, Guerin turned and jogged toward the jockeys’ room. Arcaro was waiting at the top of the stairs leading to the room. He had heard Guerin tell the TV audience the Dancer was “holding Jamie K. safe” at the wire.
“Don’t try to tell me I didn’t have you worried!” Arcaro shouted with a smile.
“Yes, you had me plenty worried,” Guerin said. “But my horse didn’t run his best race. He was doing his best, but I had to get into him with the whip. It was only the second time I’ve had to do that.”
Later, as he showered and dressed to catch a train to New York, Arcaro told reporters he had been forced to stray from his original plan. “I had hoped to make my move at the three-eighths pole,” he explained, “but Royal Bay Gem was coming up on my outside and I knew I couldn’t wait. Maybe if I could have waited longer, the result would have been different. Then again, maybe it wouldn’t have made a difference. Who knows?”
Outside, fans holding winning bets lined up at the windows to receive their money. “There was a huge mob,” recalled Joe Kelly, then the vice president of the Maryland Horseman’s Association. “The city editor of the Baltimore Sun had come out and bet fifty dollars, which was a lot of money, on the Dancer, and while he won the bet, he got caught in the stampede at the window after the race and his topcoat was torn. Everyone said he broke even—won the bet, tore his coat.”
So much had been bet on the Dancer that his victory created a “minus pool” of $46,012. In other words, even though the Dancer was racing at odds of just twenty cents on the dollar, so much was going out that the track had to chip in more than $46,000 to ensure that all winning bets were paid.
Native Dancer Page 20
