It was a performance for all ages, which became more and more mythical as time passed. After winning the Kentucky Derby and the Preakness Stakes in record fashion, Secretariat blasted out of the starting gate on June 9, 1973—his best start to date—and never gave up. He moved “loved a great machine”, as the announcer Chic Anderson put it, and crushed his competition by a whopping 31 lengths to win the Belmont Stakes on an uncomfortably hot but utterly joyous afternoon at Belmont Park.
Like his lead in the Belmont, his legend has grown immensely, even though his youngest current fans weren’t even born when he was crowned the ninth Triple Crown champion and first in 25 years. Nine of the country’s top 3-year-olds will go head-to-head on Saturday in celebration of the 50th anniversary of the Secretariat’s Triple Crown achievement, but none will even come close to reaching the superstar status of the big red horse.
“I was amazed at that horse the whole time,” said his jockey, Ron Turcotte, who, at age 81, is the only survivor of Secretariat’s inner circle, which includes owner Penny Chenery, trainer Lucien Laurin and groom Eddie Sweat. “He did things that we’ve never seen before and probably never will see again.”
In the Derby, Secretariat broke a step slow, but Turcotte, unconcerned, let the colt find his legs and run his race. At the top of the stretch, Turcotte asked for more, and Secretariat sped past his rival Sham to win by two and a half lengths in 1 minute 59⅖ seconds. He ran every quarter mile faster than the last, unheard of in horse racing.
In the Preakness, Turcotte made a bold decision to launch a spectacular move into the first corner. After taking the lead Secretariat was never challenged and won by two and a half lengths. Sham again settled for second place. Secretariat’s final time was recorded as 1:55, one second slower than the Preakness record. But whistleblowers recorded faster times, and by Monday the stewards voted to change the official time to their clock mark of 1:54⅖, still short of the record. It wasn’t until 2012, after Chenery hired companies to conduct a forensic review of the race using technology that didn’t exist in 1973, that the Maryland Racing Commission agreed to change the official time to 1:53, making the record was finally set. .
Then came the Belmont, his pièce de résistance. If Anderson’s call of the race was the pinnacle of his lyrical craft, a photo credited to track photographer Bob Coglianese was his visual counterpart. It shows Secretariat head-on, hooves hovering over the track in full flight, as Turcotte looks over his left shoulder at the timer that would record Secretariat running the Belmont in 2:24, two seconds faster than any horse before or after. A blue and white checkered post – the color of Chenery’s side – marks the margin of victory, almost unbelievable in size. “I still had a lot of horse when I crossed the wire,” said Turcotte. “He wasn’t even sweating.”
Adam Coglianese, who took over as official job photographer when his father retired, said of the photo: “That step is exactly what we would be looking for today. It’s actually dumb luck. If you shoot one frame, as they did back then, you can’t plan what you’re going to get.”
A recent account called into question whether Bob Coglianese, who was the New York Racing Association’s track photographer for more than 50 years, had taken the photo in the first place. Adam Coglianese disputed any claims to the contrary, but acknowledged that he knew little about the details of the black-and-white photograph, including whether it had been developed that night.
“He was very careful about everything we did,” Adam Coglianese said of his father. “I don’t think people understand what it takes to prepare for a Triple Crown. For weeks during the American Pharoah race, I drew a map of where each of my 20 photographers would stand.
Whether it’s Bob Coglianese, who died last year at age 88, or someone else on his team who snapped the photo, it only seems to add to the legend of the horse, which has spread far beyond the racecourse. stretched out.
Star Status, in Retirement and Dead
In Paris, Ky., off Secretariat Way, is Claiborne Farm, one of America’s most storied breeding farms. Built in 1910, the Black and Yellow brooder has produced 22 Derby winners, 20 Preakness winners, 22 Belmont winners and six of the 13 Triple Crown champions, including Secretariat.
A corner stall in the stallion stable still bears Secretariat’s name and that of his father, Bold Ruler, in addition to those of other elites who have inhabited the space. Father and son are buried behind the office in a graveyard that is a who’s who of thoroughbred royalty.
On most days, Secretariat’s modest tombstone is draped with mementos from fans, who celebrate each birthday and anniversary with roses – some painted red, some painted blue. They also drop pennies, a nod to Chenery, an unlikely heroine who took over her father’s ranch early in Secretariat’s career and saved it with the horse’s Triple Crown run and the $6.08 million syndication of his breeding rights, a record at the time.
“He was sort of a rallying cry for America,” said Claiborne president Walker Hancock, referring to the era of Richard Nixon, the Watergate scandal and the end of the Vietnam War. “He kind of brought everyone together after everyone was so divided.”
Secretariat’s popularity – he graced the covers of Time, Newsweek and Sports Illustrated and was the subject of a Disney movie – gave the farm new impetus from the day he arrived on November 12, 1973, when several hundred people greeted him at Blue Grass Airport in Lexington. Thousands more flocked to Claiborne each year. So many showed up that a privacy fence had to be erected along the road.
“They thought they could just walk over and pet a stallion,” said Joe Peel, the stallion manager, with a chuckle.
The tours have continued since Secretariat’s death on October 4, 1989, at the age of 19 from laminitis, a painful hoof condition. Dr. Thomas Swerczek of the University of Kentucky performed Secretariat’s autopsy and estimated his heart to be about 21 to 22 pounds, or nearly two and a half times larger than that of the average whole blood.
As with the photo, there is no evidence as the autopsy was performed hastily and without proper equipment and documentation. according to an interview in 2020. But Swerczek stood by his claim until he died last year at age 82.
Survive the field and time
The National Museum of Racing and Hall of Fame in Saratoga Springs, NY, has not had a traveling exhibit in over two decades. It took a milestone from the secretariat to get the museum back on track.
Titled “A Tremendous Machine” after Anderson’s call to the race, the exhibit has followed the Secretariat’s Triple Crown trail, traveling to Louisville, Baltimore and now Elmont, NY. at Chenery’s Meadow Farm.
Along the way, the organizers collected stories and photos from visitors. Some saw Secretariat racing; others visited him at the farm. Some owned his descendants. Several have locks of his hair. One man, who was stationed abroad in 1973, remembered listening to the Belmont on the radio and crying tears of joy.
“It just makes people feel so good,” says Cate Masterson, the director of the museum, which will host a larger Secretariat exhibit this summer. “It’s a trip down memory lane.”
In Paris, Secretariat’s adopted hometown, a new three-story mural gives the impression of Turcotte and Secretariat running down Main Street. A park and a statue are planned underneath.
Lyra Miller, who operates a bed-and-breakfast on her horse farm, receives visitors who return annually to visit Secretariat’s grave. She also owns a restaurant on Main Street called Lil’s Coffee Shop.
The week of the Derby, she chatted with regulars, including a 96-year-old vet, Dr. Robert Copelan, who handled Secretariat during his Triple Crown quest. The achievement was fresh in people’s minds even 50 years later. One by one they pondered the legends: the records, the earth-shattering achievement, the woman in charge, the champion’s heart.
“It’s crazy, isn’t it?” Miller said. “People talk about him like he’s alive. In a way, he still is.”