Date published in FLS: 10/23/2004 [ Return ]
A LINE OF CARS and tour buses winds along Old Frankfort Pike near the town of Midway, Ky., waiting in the noonday sun for the magical hour of 1 p.m. At 12:50 p.m., Three Chimneys Farm opens its gates to patient travelers who will get to see and photograph a "little red" colt named Smarty Jones.
Fredericksburg-area horse-racing fans, along with the rest of America, were thrilled this year by the 3-year-old race-horse who won the Kentucky Derby and the Preakness, only to lose his Triple Crown bid to Birdstone in a stunning upset at the Belmont Stakes in June. Smarty is now living "the good life" in retirement as "one of the boys," with fellow stallions Silver Charm, Albert the Great, Sky Mesa, Point Given and War Chant.
At 15.3 hands high, with kind eyes and a sometimes unruly mane resembling adolescent bangs, Smarty came to Kentucky in August, leaving a legacy to the racing world of indomitable spirit and heart. But since mid-September, admirers have been allowed to come pay him homage at his new home. Visits are scheduled by appointment through November this year, and starting again in March. The farm, eight miles from Lexington, Ky., is a 500-mile drive from Fredericksburg.
Much to the chagrin (and heartbreak) of his former trainer, John Servis, "many people just didn't get a chance to see how talented Smarty Jones really was" and why he is such an amazing animal.
On a cold, clear morning, a wine-colored foal wobbled to his feet. He was off to a shaky start, while his brood mare, I'll Get Along, nuzzled him affectionately. He was small, but destined for greatness and to fulfill the hopes of Someday Farm, in Chester County, Pa., where he was born on Feb. 28, 2001.
Smarty's name was no accident, any more than his destiny. It was given him in honor of owner Pat Chapman's mother, Mildred, who was nicknamed "Smarty Jones" by her grandparents. They also share the same February birthday.
In the year that Smarty was born, 34,539 thoroughbreds foaled in North America, according to The Washington Post. Not great odds, but those were Smarty's odds. In mating Elusive Quality with I'll Get Along, Pat Chapman and her husband, Roy, hoped they would get a horse with that rare quality of speed and stamina that would realize their dreams of a champion.
Smarty Jones was also the long-awaited dream-come-true of his suburban trainer, John Servis, whose first spoken word was "horse," and the redemption of an obscure, veteran jockey, Stewart Elliott, who had known his ups and downs. But when he became Smarty's jockey, Elliott's outstanding qualities were catapulted to fame by the way he and the horse performed on the racetrack.
Elliott, who had known Servis for more than 20 years, was handpicked to ride Smarty, and was aboard when Smarty was out of the starting gate for six of the eight races that he won. He rode his mount with a skill and psychological prowess that rivaled Red Pollard, famed jockey for Seabiscuit. Smarty trotted off twice to the Winner's Circle with record-setting margins of victory.
In Smarty's home of Philadelphia Park, in Bensalem, Pa., the horse won his first (maiden) race by seven lengths, only to return to that same racetrack just before Thanksgiving of 2003, knocking the wind out of everyone, sweeping past his contenders by 15 lengths. That's when Servis knew he had a special horse, a Derby horse.
On Smarty's third birthday, he handed a win to his owners and trainer, at Oaklawn, Ark., Southwest Stakes, overtaking Two Down Automatic, by three-fourths of a length. With his astounding victory at the Preakness on May 15, 2004, Smarty raced like the wind, winning by a record-setting margin of 11.5 lengths. He was hounded by Rock Hard Ten and Lion Heart the whole way, and at the top of the stretch, Smarty showed his mettle with his killer move on the far turn, pulling away from his contenders, as people in the crowd marveled: "He's just like Secretariat!" Down the homestretch to the wire, his head held high, Smarty ran with a breathtaking show of spirit and racing heart.
Smarty's starts weren't always perfect, nor was his young life. In December 2001, Bob Camac, the Chapmans' trainer, whose idea it was to breed Elusive Quality and I'll Get Along, and his wife, Maryann, were slain at their home in New Jersey. Their stepson was charged with the double murder. The Chapmans were devastated, and in their grief and anxiety sold all of their horses, even the favorite, I'll Get Along. This left a slow 2-year-old and Smarty Jones in the barn.
As a yearling, Smarty was sent to Bridlewood Farm in Ocala, Fla., to prepare for his racing career. This was the usual procedure for Chapman thoroughbreds. Manager George Isaacs soon took note that, in Smarty Jones, he had something special. Though the horse appeared to be slow, he was smooth as silk, and when a stopwatch clocked in the reality, Smarty's pace was unbelievable.
So when Smarty returned from Florida on July 16, 2003, he was shipped to Philadelphia Park in Bensalem, Pa., where the trainer Servis, who came highly recommended, assumed the challenge of conditioning Smarty to be a Derby contender. Smarty's new Philadelphia Park home was considered an unlikely venue for such a task, but Smarty would make it famous.
Servis, his wife, Sherry, and their two sons, Blane and Tyler, live a mile from the Bensalem racetrack, where the trainer has carved out a solid living since 1984. With 20 years' experience on his own as a trainer and solid roots as a child of the racing world, and as a loving father and husband, Servis was obliged to listen to his inner voice--"Don't overwork this brilliant colt"--according to The Washington Post.
Having had hundreds of hopeful 2-year-olds pass through his care, Servis had had none who had become a hero. Not yet. So naturally, when George Isaacs phoned from Florida, boasting of Smarty Jones as a horse of "exceptional promise," Servis had to be a little skeptical. A small person himself, Servis appeared no more impressive than Smarty. But a few days later, Servis sat, mesmerized, from his seat on a pony, watching the "little red" colt, Smarty Jones, gallop the track. Arriving home later that day, he announced to his wife: "Finally, somebody was telling me the truth."
Just 12 days into training, tragedy struck. While learning at the starting gate, the colt suddenly reared up, striking his skull on the iron bar. Blood gushed from Smarty's face. Servis thought it was all over. Once they were able to help Smarty up, it was apparent there was no open wound, but blood was everywhere. At the New Jersey Equine Clinic where Smarty was treated, the left side of his head was swollen, and tissue protruded hideously from the socket where his eye should have been. Miraculously, Smarty's eye was still intact, and three days later, veterinarian Patricia Hogan was beside herself with relief when she realized that Smarty hadn't lost any vision in his left eye.
Smarty proved to be a model patient as he went through the healing process. His head was wrapped in bandages, and he began to show his heart and his spirit.
He never sulked, or appeared down and out. On the contrary, he stood in his stall and hollered at the other horses, and never, never missed a meal, according to accounts from Hogan to The Associated Press. By Aug. 8, the colt was well enough to be discharged, and went for a month to recuperate on a farm. By the time the horse made it back to Philadelphia Park, Servis had a plan for Smarty: Take it slow, a walk on the track, then a rider, then accompanied by another pony.
Smarty was comfortable enough to step up to the starting gate within two weeks, but "still takes a step back to this day," noted Servis.
Will Smarty ever forget that injury? Probably not. In his racing career, whenever he was led out to anxious crowds in a state of semi-pandemonium waiting to see him, Pete Van Trump, his exercise rider, always did so with the palm of his hand on Smarty's neck or face.
Tragic as the incident may have been, Servis reflected in an interview, two days before the Belmont race, it forced a pause in Smarty's training, allowing him to mature.
At the end of his first race, the Maiden Stakes, on Nov. 9, 2003, owner Roy Chapman nudged Servis: "Boy, he's a pretty nice horse, isn't he?" Servis still didn't want to get the owner's hopes up. At the Nursery Stakes two weeks later, Chapman continued to push: "You going to give him some credit now?"
From that moment, Servis put Smarty Jones on the "Derby Road," mapping out the colt's destiny, on the path of caution.
Servis' hallmarks--restraint and patience--both were necessary and invaluable in training Smarty.
As Servis skillfully guided Smarty through a series of preparatory races, each with progressively longer distances, in Hot Springs, Ark., Smarty demonstrated that he had learned his lessons well: Be patient at the starting gate, take off like a loaded gun, race with restraint early, keeping up with the pack leaders and, most important, surge when asked, pulling away at the top of the stretch, to give it all you've got.
Victory after victory showed Smarty's brilliance, starting with Aqueduct in New York. After the Arkansas Derby, Smarty was sent to the prestigious Keeneland racetrack in Kentucky for a nine-day rest. On Thursday, April 22, "Little Red," as Smarty was nicknamed ("Big Red" was Secretariat--the Caroline County-born horse who won the Triple Crown in 1973), arrived at Churchill Downs, in Louisville, Ky., undefeated.
As Servis helped Smarty get settled into Barn 42, he said: "I feel like I'm coming in with a loaded gun. The way he [Smarty] charged off that van, he knows something big is in store."
During gallops, Smarty proved a powerhouse of energy and drive, dragging his exercise rider, Pete Van Trump, around the track like Raggedy Andy. Servis commented after returning from a workout one morning, "Man, I wish the Derby was tomorrow." But tomorrow (May 1, 2004) soon arrived, and around 4 p.m., a severe thunderstorm flooded the entrance to Barn 42, accompanied by loud claps of thunder. Smarty and Imperialism never turned a hair, according to one Web site.
A short time later, Kentucky Derby 130 commenced, Smarty going in as the 4-1 favorite. Smarty galloped through the mud and slush and rain under an ominous sky, emerging like a beacon of light and hope. When he crossed the finish line, the crowd was crying and screaming. The staff at the New Jersey Equine Clinic watched the race together on television, and everyone was crying there, too.
At the Kentucky Derby, Smarty earned yet another title, "the people's horse," and his first jewel in the coveted Triple Crown. He also earned a $5 million bonus for his owners by winning the Rebel Stakes and both the Arkansas and Kentucky derbies.
Upon his return to his home track in Philadelphia Park, Smarty received a hero's welcome, with 5,000 fans and a proclamation from Pennsylvania Gov. Ed Rendell honoring him.
From this point, Smarty was sought after, and there was a delicate balance between preparing him for the Preakness and social and press obligations, Servis soon realized. Requests from Philadelphia TV and radio stations skyrocketed from two in 2003 to 100 before the Preakness in 2004. All this Smarty took in stride, continuing to lick his feed tub clean and perform flawlessly, apparently enjoying the attention of the swelling crowds showing up at Philly Park for his 8:30 a.m. workouts.
Wednesday, May 12, Smarty entered his van for the ride to Baltimore to continue his journey to the Triple Crown. Elliott cleverly selected Post Seven at the Wednesday night draw for the starting gate.
The morning of the Preakness, the crowds were already unbelievably huge by 10 a.m., and it was going to be a sweltering hot, humid day. By noon, the crowds near the track were sipping tumblers of Black-eyed Susans, a Preakness alcoholic favorite. The betting that was going on was heavy. Smarty went into the race as the 2-5 favorite. The crowds roared when he was led out onto the green near the media pavilion, vaguely reminiscent of a day at the races long ago when Seabiscuit was led out to challenge War Admiral on Nov. 1, 1938.
At the starting gate, there was trouble. Imperialism threw a shoe into the saddling area, and Rock Hard Ten refused to be loaded into position at the gate. Through all this, Smarty stood in his position, waiting to go, good as gold. They were off at 6:25 p.m.; Smarty shot out like a cannon. That day, Smarty and Elliott resembled stalkers, waiting to pounce on their prey. Smarty was smooth as silk, seemingly effortless, in the backstretch, and even though Lion Heart took the lead, he was too wide. Elliott took Smarty inside, and the way the colt pulled away at the top of the stretch, to cross the wire 111/2 lengths ahead of the others, had everyone wild.
Donna Chapman, daughter of smarty's owners, was sobbing uncontrollably, saying: "Oh my God, I can't believe it. He blew everybody away!" The Winner's Circle was a deliriously happy site that evening, as Servis leaned over to Pat Chapman and said, "I'm on Cloud Nine."
When Smarty Jones left Philly Park for the Belmont Stakes race, Wednesday, June 2, to go for the final jewel of the Triple Crown, he went in style. No movie star or dignitary could have had a more royal escort than Smarty. Safely ensconced in his van loaded with the finest hay and water, Smarty traveled with a helicopter hovering overhead and police cars to the right, left and rear of the vehicle. Smarty Jones was a star.
At Belmont, a record crowd of 120,139 showed up to cheer Smarty on to his hoped-for final victory and racing immortality. The weather was overcast, but clear. The track was bursting at the seams with Smarty fans and well-wishers wanting to see this amazing colt and to shake Elliott's hand.
Servis commented that he had noted in the last two weeks that, with all the excitement and continued media frenzy, Smarty had had trouble settling. He was accompanied to the starting gate by his beloved exercise riding companion, Butterscotch, Philly Park's lead pony.
The Belmont track is the most grueling of the three: It is 1 miles, compared with Pimlico's 1 miles and Churchill Downs' 1 miles.
Smarty posted to the starting gate as the 3-10 favorite. Coming out of the backstretch at Belmont, Smarty had taken the lead from Rock Hard Ten and Royal Assault for the distance, even though they were on him all the way. In the stands Pat Chapman rose, standing next to Roy Chapman, who, wheelchair-bound, had risen, too. Birdstone's jockey, Edgar Prado, was behind, but had stayed in contact with the warring pack. Pat Chapman had a worried look.
At the top of the stretch, Smarty wasn't pulling away, and Birdstone was gaining, and despite Elliott's efforts to get Smarty to surge, he couldn't.
In a heartbeat, with one length to go, Birdstone, a 36-1 longshot, overtook Smarty Jones and crossed the wire. Eight glorious, grueling months of competing in races and ankle pounding had taken its toll. It was over, and the Triple Crown suddenly became a dream again, a star in the sky--impossible now for this colt to reach.
The crowds were disappointed; tear-stained faces watched in numbed silence as Mary Lou Whitney, Birdstone's owner, her husband, John Hendrickson, and the trainer, Nick Zito, made their way to the Winner's Circle.
"We do feel horrible," said Hendrickson. Mary Lou Whitney clutched a bouquet of white carnations. "I feel great," said Nick Zito with a wry smile.
This was the bittersweet. Smarty Jones was "almost perfect," according to one newspaper, and as he stood getting his cool-down bath after the race, rather than his customary spot in the Winner's Circle, he was already one of history's great racehorses, rivaling Seattle Slew, Secretariat and Affirmed, all Triple Crown winners of the 1970s. Smarty Jones was still a hero, and by now wrapped in the mantle of the royal-blue Chapman cape, he exited the racetrack with his head held high, to applause and cheers of the crowd.
The downside is that Smarty, going into Belmont, was the most heavily bet-upon racehorse in the history of the sport, and his loss represented a loss of millions of dollars to bettors all over the world and to the coffers of the pari-mutuel betting windows of the New York racetrack.
In the eight months of his racing career, Smarty earned $7,613,155. He was the second-highest-paid racehorse in history, the highest-paid being Cigar, who holds the earnings record for North America--$9,999,915. Of eight winning starts, Smarty Jones won each by an average of 5.9 lengths--not bad for "an almost perfect horse."
On Saturday, Aug. 14, between Races 3 and 4 at his home track in Philadelphia, Smarty Jones made his final appearance to the racing world. The park was packed with well-wishers who snapped photos and bought Smarty Jones products and memorabilia one last time.
The Chapmans had carefully mapped out Smarty's future from the beginning. They had planned to breed him after the Triple Crown, and soon. But they had also hoped to let him continue his racing career later in the summer, culminating in the prestigious Breeder's Cup Classic at the Lone Star racetrack in Dallas, Texas, next weekend.
During the summer, when Smarty's workouts resumed, things weren't going well. A nuclear bone scan July 29 revealed chronic bone bruising in all four fetlocks (ankles). Together, the Chapmans and Servis made the decision to retire Smarty early--to do "what was in the best interest of the horse," according to Pat Chapman.
On Aug. 16, Smarty Jones exited his van to touch the soil of his new home at Three Chimneys Farm near Midway, Ky. His first activity was to lean down and sample the bluegrass. Led by his new groom, Ruben Ramos, Smarty entered his stall (once home to the late, great Seattle Slew), where he will stand stud to 110 mares next year, perhaps producing yet another champion. Even though his racing career is over, Smarty Jones, to many, will always be a hero.
JUDY STOBBE of Stafford County, a horsewoman herself, is a Realtor and freelance writer.
See the on-line article at: http://www.fredericksburg.com/News/FLS/2004/102004/10232004/1543059/Date published: 10/23/2004