LOSING A LOCAL LEGEND

LOSING A LOCAL LEGEND

The Jocks’ Room Is Getting Lonely

By Sean Clancy

Sean Clancy

Daniel M. Smithwick Jr., the last of the cavaliers, died April 23. Amateur jockey. Horse trainer. Husband. Father. Grandfather. Gone at 62.

Growing up, there was only one Speedy Smithwick. An icon way out there, untouchable. Irish-knit cap, billowy britches, a twinkle in his eye and that nevergive-anything-away smirk. All the rich kids wanted to be Speedy Smithwick, riding rocket ships for his National Museum of Racing Hall of Fame father. All the poor kids wanted to be Speedy Smithwick, riding pointto-point stalwarts for his Virginia Steeplechase Hall of Fame mother. Speedy welcomed the rich kids and the poor kids just the same; here’s an old couch, an exercise saddle, you don’t need a helmet, get to work, stay as long as you like.

Daniel M. “Speedy” Smithwick Jr. with his father D.M. “Mikey” Smithwick

Photo by Douglas Lees

Too tall to be a professional but oh so perfect as an amateur. Long leg. Long hold. Soft hands. Soft touch. Cajoling rather than controlling. He was always in the middle of the horse, that’s as good a compliment as I can give. Oh, to have hands like Speedy Smithwick. Small horse. Big horse. The third in the Maryland Hunt Cup. The last in the Iroquois. Long spot. Short spot. Hurdles. Timber. Fox hunting. Logs in the woods. It’s an art form, to balance on a water hose of a horse, that perfect line from bit to hand, hip to toe…I failed that class but Speedy perfected it.

His profile on Central Entry runs 15 pages. From Subway, a junior flat horse, in ’72 to Highland Bud, a champion, in ’91. From Anvil to Zoomy. Uncle Edwin to Aunt Rosa. Bardal to Balantic. Rockaround to Straight and True. A who’s-who list of immortals.

For every race he rode, you could double the competition as he battled the scales as well as the race. Hot baths and hot cars. Epsom salts and Ex-Lax. Rubber suits and rubber meeting road. That’s when you test your mettle, your moxie. Once he crossed the scale, he folded that erector set body on top of a horse’s withers like he never missed a meal.

All with a smile, an open door, a friendly hand. Sunny Bank provided a sanctuary; sometimes a pot-holed driveway, a musty couch, a cold beer, a cup of coffee or a hard-mileage fox hunter is all anybody needs. Some never left. An island of misfit toys. Speedy at the helm.

Born to icons, Speedy tread his own path as best he could. First as a jockey, second as a. trainer. An arduous task, an unenviable burden. Complex and confounding, an inner tick of a click of a clock that only he knew.

A few weeks ago, the remnants of Speedy’s jocks’ room converged under a gray and then sunny sky at Trinity Church in Upperville. A scrapbook of mourning. Smiles and stories. Friends and family. Jockeys and jokers. Grooms and groupies. Peers and proteges. All knowing Speedy Smithwick from various venues, from various vantage points and all with their own nostalgic nuance. Cook Edens III carried two old photo albums, unfolded them on a standup table under the tent in the grass behind the church. We took one last walk through the jocks’ room that had lost one its pillars.

Speedy in birth and speedy in death. Speedy Smithwick, a kind soul, a rider’s rider, horseman’s horseman, a one off of all one offs, has left the room.

Speedy leads two to the paddock and Robert Apple tags along.

Photo © by Tiffany Dillon Keen

Speedy Smithwick on a stairway to heaven.

Photo © by Tiffany Dillon Keen

Our community has lost a legend… Daniel M. “Speedy” Smithwick Jr. (1959-2022), who died on April 23. He was a gifted horseman, doting father and grandfather and a great friend to so many here, there and everywhere.

Not long ago, Country ZEST made a call to Eva and Speedy to ask if we could come over to their Sunny Bank Farm in Middleburg to illustrate what real life in this part of the countryside is all about. These two photos of Speedy from that sweet afternoon seem appropriate at this time.

Cricket Bedford recently wrote about what a special friend Speedy had been since they met in late spring of 1980.

“He asked me if I wanted to come spend the summer at Sunny Bank breaking yearlings,” she said, adding that the timing was ideal. That summer, riding for Speedy and his mother, the late Dot Smithwick “cultivated an incredible relationship not unlike a second family for me,” she wrote.

Life on the farm and the racing circuit were Speedy’s true passions. He was an integral part of a rat pack on horseback: Joe Stettinius, Ted Stettinius, Joe Davies, Woods Winants, Mike Elmore, Gregg Ryan, Eben Sutton and many more.

Ah, and what a stir it created when Speedy would drop Cricket back at Foxcroft in his red Zephyr.

“You treated me like a little sister and I will never forget that,” Cricket wrote. “You and your mom taught me to be the rider I am today. She intimidated me but you encouraged me. The first time I ever ran a horse was for your dad and you were the rider. (See photo). The first I ever ran a flat horse at Churchill Downs, it was trained by you and it won. And like the formidable woman your mom was, you found just as strong a partner in Eva.

“She was the perfect balance for you and together you enjoyed such success in training race horses but most importantly in raising a family. Everyone knew how proud you were of your two beautiful daughters, Kathy and Trish.

“Like we often do with our siblings, we forget to tell them how much we appreciate them, love them and cherish knowing they’ll always be there for you. And now you’re gone. I will always love you like a brother Speedy, and only wish I could hear you call me ‘Crocket’ one last time. Rest in peace.”

—Vicky Moon