Secretariat A HERO for the AGES

“It has been a half century since Secretariat last set foot on the racetrack, and yet it is amazing to see how his name continues to resonate – and how much love and affection he still engenders from fans. The fact that all three of his Triple Crown records still stand is a testament to his greatness, and his enduring legacy as a benchmark of excellence for the sport.”

— Leonard Lusky, Secretariat.com

Celebrating 50 years since America’s Horse’s Triple Crown

Fifty years is a long time: five decades. Half-a-century. Some people reading this weren’t born yet, when the crazily-talented equine god, Secretariat, won his Triple Crown in 1973.

Q: Why is every horse racing publication, and most Generalist newspapers, magazines and websites – bending-over-backward to celebrate the 50th anniversary of one single Thoroughbred’s recordbreaking Triple Crown?

A: Because he wasn’t “just a horse.” Secretariat was preternatural – not of this world. He rose up at an urgent time in American history, and took his own reins. He was born to do this great thing, to be a symbol of Hope at a time when Hope was in short supply.

There’s an eternal, untouchable quality, a legacy of perfection that Secretariat left when he died in 1989. His body succumbed to Laminitis – but his soul, his influence and the gauntlet he threw down have echoed for 50 years (so far). There’s no doubt, that Secretariat is the very definition of the Horse Archetype. In Celtic mythology, horses were the companions of warriors.

But what if the horse, himself, is a warrior? That warrior-horse can arise victorious from battle, thus becoming a Hero. Or, as was the case of Secretariat: there’s no doubt that he was born a Hero.

(In Greek mythology, Heroes are endowed with superhuman abilities, descended from the immortal gods, themselves. And surely, God’s Own Horse would be born with superiority in his very DNA.)

Whichever path Secretariat took to his throne in the Pantheon, he defines Greatness in all its varieties. Big Red is an eternal Hero, who was born in an era when America was desperately in need of Heroes and Healers.

The 1960s had been a time of great turmoil and unrest: the Vietnam Conflict, erupting just two years after the end of the Korean War, had raged on since 1955.

On March 30, 1970, Secretariat was born at Christopher Chenery’s Meadow Farm in Virginia. The beautiful red colt breathed his first breaths in the quiet of the rolling hills, but the rest of his nation was tired.

Just plain tired – tired of war, tired of talking about war – just, bone-weary, tired. Yet, in March of 1970, 8,000 miles away from Secretariat’s serene barn –the war showed no sign of ending anytime soon.

As we know from many sources, Heroes are often born in quiet places, unnoticed by the rest of the world. An inauspicious beginning doth not an unnoticed Life predict!

During the next two years, as Vietnam raged on -- Secretariat ate and ran, playing in The Meadow’s paddocks. Little Red became Big Red, and began growing into his destiny. Soon, he would be a Hero, THE Hero, on whom America (and many around the world) could hang their hopes.

In July, 1972, the colt left the serenity of his barn and the comfort of the familiar: Secretariat traveled from his lovely hills to the jarring cacophony of New York City for his veryfirst race. (What a shock that must have been!)

On July 4th, 1972, he ran in his first race: a 5 1/2Furlong Maiden Special Weight at Aqueduct. He did not fare well. But after 10 days of rest, training and acclimation to his loud surroundings, Secretariat was entered in another Maiden Special Weight, this one, 6F on July 15th. He appreciated that little extra distance, and he won. He had the new experience of being alone at the front, and it felt good.

Secretariat’s next trip was to upstate New York, to Saratoga, where the fresh air and lush greenery was so familiar, so much like his Virginia home. Many of the people and horses at Saratoga were the same as at Aqueduct, but here they were more relaxed. Secretariat was becoming Big Red, in large measure because he was nurtured by his best friend, Eddie Sweat; his Owner, Penny Chenery and calming new surroundings.

Secretariat latched onto the talent with which he’d been born – and just discovered within himself – and used it to win his next three races. (All three, 2YO races were at Saratoga: an Allowance on July 31st, then the Sanford on August 18th, and the Hopeful, just eight days later, on the 26th.)

Three races in brief succession, three victories. Saratoga loved Secretariat, and now, so did the world.

As 1973 approached, the Vietnam Conflict was coming to and end: the Paris Peace Accords was signed just 27 days into the new year. Secretariat hit the track in his third year, ready to rock.

The moment Secretariat’s big hooves stepped out of the paddock at Churchill Downs in May, 1973, America was ready for their Hero. They got it: winning the Kentucky Derby, then the Preakness, Big Red had become a legend. On to the third leg of the Triple Crown, and the demigod was prepared: ready to face Big Sandy, ready to steal thunder from the gods.

When he stepped out of the tunnel at Belmont on June 9, 1973, the screams were deafening. But Secretariat just stared at the track, laser-focused on the job before him. Surely, America’s Horse would not disappoint – and he did not. In fact, as we know, he won the Belmont stakes by a resounding 31 lengths—AND he broke the track record. (31 lengths = approx. the length of a football field between the two sets of goalposts.)

In fact, he broke the records for all three Triple Crown races: To this day, Secretariat still holds the record for the fastest Derby ever run: 1:59 2/5 seconds. He holds the record for the fastest Preakness run: 1:53 flat (Which was adjusted after a teletimer error originally clocked him in 1:55 2/5.)

And of course, he still holds the record for the fastest Belmont: 1 ½ mile in 2:24 flat.

“One horse holding all three records is insane,” veteran racing journalist Dick Jerardi is quoted as saying. “That can’t happen, but it did. In those five weeks, he ran faster than any horse ever has.”

Tina Turner sang that “…we don’t need another Hero,” but she must’ve forgotten about Secretariat and the turbulent era that summoned him from the heavens. America needed a Hero of otherworldly proportions, and we got that Hero, in the flesh and spirit of the “…tremendous machine,” Secretariat.

Happy 50th, Big Red – and, Thank you!

Penny loved horses from early childhood; she learned to ride when she was five. In 1936 she was 14, and her father built The Meadow, his Thoroughbred breeding farm in Caroline County, Virginia. (Penny also shared her sire’s business acumen – an attribute she would call upon in the early 1970s.) She attended the elite Madeira School in McLean, Virginia, where she was Captain of the Equestrian Team in her Senior year. (Of course, her talent for riding was a logical and emotional response to the species – but genetics and familial predilections surely played roles, as well.) She credits her father, for she believed that she had inherited that affection.)

"My father really loved horses. I think a parent often communicates his love to a child."

From the Madeira School, she went on to Smith College, from which she graduated in 1943 with a degree in American Studies.

Graduate studies followed, then marriage to John (Jack) Tweedy; four children and eventually, a move to the Wild West: Colorado. Penny’s life took a turn in 1967, when her mother died suddenly, and her father became ill. (He entered New Rochelle Hospital in April, 1968 and remained there until he died in 1973.) The Meadow had fallen into disrepair, and was in debt. Three of the Chenery siblings hoped to sell the farm, but The Meadow’s Board had elected Penny to be President. In 1968, she began the long and arduous journey to bring The Meadow back to her father’s vision, and profitability.

She assumed breeding responsibilities, and by 1972 had a great stakes horse in her beloved Riva Ridge. Riva, as she called him, won the 1972 Kentucky Derby and the Belmont – thus, achieving Christopher Chenery’s dream of producing a truly great racehorse. The Meadow was once again viable – thriving, in fact. That same year, two-year-old Secretariat was named Champion Two-Year-Old Colt, thus foreshadowing his true greatness, and establishing his legacy.

Had not Penny insisted that The Meadow should be saved, her father’s name and passion for horses and the sport would have become an asterisk in racing history books. But Penny had the drive to do right by her sire, to give him a gift that he so-richly deserved: horse racing immortality. Only a daughter of extraordinary fire, grit, intelligence and love for family and Thoroughbreds could have given her father and the world, Riva Ridge and Secretariat – arguably, the greatest Thoroughbred, ever to live.