Posted: Sep 24, 07 4:42am
Good Morning,
When we last spoke, I promised to tell you the story of my meeting with Seattle Slew, the famous racing thoroughbred of the late 1970s. Well, I am prepared to do that now, however, I will need to make a few changes in names and places - you never know who might be lurking out there anymore. However, I promise that all of the people, places and events are exactly as I remember them. (whether real, or imagined )
It was probably 1979 or 1980. I was living in Lexington, Ky. I am terrible about exact dates. It has always been "about the time when... or "soon after that..."
Anyway, I was being hounded by those friendly folks at the IRS for back taxes from a mini - restaurant empire that failed almost as quickly as it had risen. We had 3 - a small beer bar off the college campus, a family style, hillbilly themed steakhouse, and a sandwich shop aptly named Three Guys Who Sell Sandwiches because there were 3 of us who somehow, with great luck, some talent, and an uncanny ability to sleepwalk into opportunity, put all of this together with no money.
Surviving that, I began a new career in fine dining in a 4 Diamond restaurant at a local upscale hotel. My girlfriend's mother was the Chef at this restaurant. She liked me, and would like me even better, I soon discovered, if I was employed (moms are funny that way),.... so she hired me .
One day Jill said "We have been invited on a tour of Wellsprings Farm - want to go?"
Wellsprings Farm, at the time, was one of - if not the most, prestigious horse farms in the bluegrass. It was a stud farm, I later found out. This is where some of the greatest thoroughbreds of all time were at stud.
Time out.
"How did we get invited?"
"My mom".
"What does she have to do with it?".
"She's Ashford's mistress".
(pause)
"Who is Ashford?"
"He owns it."
"Owns what?"
"Wellsprings".
"It's going to be private. Just the 3
of us".
(pause)
"Where's Ashford's wife going to be?"
The day came and the 3 of us drove down the 2 mile driveway. We got to a large circular area surrounded by barns and stables and stopped. In the center was Ashford. He was a tall, thin, man with a huge smile. He hugged Jill and her mom and shook my hand warmly and welcomed us. That's when I realized that I had seen him before. Big time horse guy. He was a permanent fixture every year on TV on Derby Day. He was always highlighted at the Keeneland sales. Ashford says this, Ashford says that...
He wasted no time and led us directly to the stables. We were receiving a well rehearsed speech - no doubt he had done this countless times before.
At the edge of the circle were the stables. Security cameras were everywhere. They were mounted on poles outside and in each stall. The horses were monitored 24 hours a day. It smelled of fresh straw. Mixed with the aromas of old wood, polished brass, leather, and the horses themselves, it was a peaceful, comforting, atmosphere.
As we passed the stalls, I read the elegant brass nameplates and looked in on some of the greatest names of the sport - many of them past Derby winners.
Some stalls were empty, with just the nameplates remaining - a tribute to the champions who had passed on. They would remain empty in their honor.
We saw the rooms where the stud services took place. This was the heart of the farm business. The process was described in graphic detail. No flowers and candles going on here. It was dangerous work, not only for the employees, but for the horses as well. While these animals are the giants of their breed, they are in many ways, the most frail. A broken leg can mean the end of a life, a career, and a fortune. The act is rough, tough, and violent. The hormones rage, the testosterone explodes, and all hell breaks loose. And in the middle of it are the men and women who have to ensure success. They are the ones who have to make sure that all parts go where they're supposed to.
What a great job!
You're at a cocktail party - a woman walks up and says:
"Hi there, I'm Ann. I'm an artist, who are you?"
"Hi, Ann. I'm Michael".
"Hi Michael, nice to meet you. What do you do?"
"Well, uh, I...er...ummm...let's see...uh...I take his...well...and...her...uh..."
"That's fascinating, Michael, have a good time. Bye."
We were led outside, back to where we started and more horses were brought out. More famous names. Unimaginable beauty, extraordinary grace, incredible power.
Then mom said something to Jill. She rushed over and said "Seattle Slew is here! They're bringing him out!"
I was stunned.
Do you mean Seattle Slew, a virtual unknown, purchased for only 17,000 dollars at auction that was never expected to accomplish very much who exploded on to the scene and became THE ONLY UNDEFEATED TRIPLE CROWN WINNER in history, and then went on to beat Affirmed, the next year's triple crown winner at Belmont and completely stunned thousands of people to an eerie, astonished, silence because he wasn't supposed to be able to do that - Slew, the elder statesman, the legend, could have lost with his reputation still intact because the drama and the battle that year was between Affirmed and Alydar, the 2 'super horses' of the year, only Alydar didn't show up, and, by the way, had never beaten Affirmed, which, it turns out, was probably a good thing because then Slew would have probably beaten BOTH of them which everyone there figured out in about a nanosecond and could do nothing more than stare as they quickly computed just how great a racing horse this Seattle Slew really was...
....and he was coming over to say "hi?"
Yep.
Jill was on him in a flash - hugging, cooing, stroking him like he was a giant poodle. He tolerated it like a champion. I had stayed behind and in a moment someone said, "Michael, come on up and meet Slew". I walked up slowly - in a trance, completely captivated. He was gigantic - in height and breadth. I put my hand on his nose and rubbed it lightly and slowly withdrew it, muttered "Hi Slew", stepped back and just stared, under his watchful gaze.
You could not live in Kentucky and not know something about horse racing. For several months each year, leading up to the first Saturday in May, we were inundated with racing. The news, the papers, and the city of Louisville - all created the drama that would be played out at the Derby. This is part of Kentucky's history and culture. Although not originally from there, I readily absorbed it and relished it. And so did millions of people across the country and the world, if only for a little while, on Derby Day. (I was in Puerto Rico, once, trying to explain to some folks where Kentucky was in the US and was being unsuccessful. It wasn't until I said 'Kentucky Derby' that I got nodding looks of recognition.)
I went back to 1977, where everything in thoroughbred racing was Seattle Slew.
I remember Slew. Tall, dark, and handsome. The sports writers overlooked him at first. However, the public found him quickly, and early. I remembered his famous 'war dance' before each race on TV. It was his signature...he pranced, and strutted and shook his head...a clear signal that he was ready to run. And when he danced, the money went down. And he won.
I remember cheering for him while he ran at the Derby, The Preakness, and The Belmont...and when he defeated Affirmed ( the next triple crown winner) a year later... I cheered just like he was my horse. And he was my horse.
And now, my horse was here.
It was a Zen moment.
Of course, we create our heroes and we build them up in our imaginations. Seattle Slew was a horse - a bold, strong, and beautiful horse, who knew nothing of the Kentucky Derby, or the Preakness, or the Belmont. I wonder if, that when he came through the tunnel and heard the explosive roar of the crowd, he knew it was for him? He had to have been aware of all of the attention he was getting, but hardly knew why. He ran in races because he was asked to and because he felt like it.. All horses can run and all horses can decide not to run - as many do. The thing about Slew was he always felt like it.
Who knows what it was that made him run? Maybe he got extra carrots after a race and that's what he was running for....carrots. Maybe it's not so complex after all. Maybe it's not horse 'machismo', or a heroic, competitive will to win.
But whatever it was, he did it better than all of the others.
Seattle Slew died on May 7, 2002. His remains, traditionally the heart, head, and hooves, are at Hill'n'Dale Farms near Lexington, KY.
