Monday, Jun. 16, 1930

Horses

At Epsom Downs. Silver Flare delayed them at the start, wheeling and breaking, but all at once the 17 were in a line and then the line was broken, closing to the rail, with one horse pulling out in front. It was Diolite, the favorite, with Ballyferris after him. When they had made the long run up the hill. Rustom Pasha, the Aga Khan's first-string horse, moved out, passed the tiring Diolite and led the way down toward Tattenham Corner. Then Diolite was close again neck & neck with Rustom Pasha at the turn, with Iliad third as they came sharp around.

In the royal box high up in the stand, the King leaned forward; the Prince of Wales, the Duke of York, the Duke of Gloucester had their glasses up. The Queen in a long coat and beige hat looked bored. They had come ready for rain, but now, as the horses turned into the stretch the sun broke through and laid a yellow span on the midway--a span that moved like a pacemaker in front of the chasing horses with the tiny bright-colored jockeys pressed against their necks. The crowd that had been yelling Iliad home stared as a new horse moved out of the pack--Blenheim, the Aga Khan's second-stringer. Surely, easily, Blenheim, ridden by Harry Wragg, who won the Derby in 1928 with Felstead, crept up, then moved in front, by a shadow, by a nose, then by a good length, crossed the line, with Iliad second, Diolite a staggering, gasping third.

Through the crowd to Blenheim's bridle elbowed a stout, swarthy man in morning clothes, top hat and thick glasses--the Aga Khan III, spiritual head of 12,000,000 Shiite Mohammedans. Unperturbed by his religious responsibilities, he lives in France with his young French wife, daughter of a middleclass, provincial businessman, and raises thoroughbreds. "Proudest moment of my life" said he. "But you know, I didn't have a shilling on him.''*

At Belmont Park. Because the sport is ancient, its regulations basically unchanged, famous horse races seem to reflect the characteristics of the vicinities in which they are held. Oldest U. S. race is Saratoga's Travers, first run in 1864. Most socialite race is Kentucky's decorous

Derby. Last week in carefully groomed Belmont Park outside New York, one of the richest U. S. races was run: the Belmont Stakes (purse: $80,000).

Racegoers flocked to see a match between the two most touted horses of the season: William Woodward's Gallant Fox, rugged, big-chested, built on classic lines of speed and strength; Harry Payne Whitney's Whichone, tapering-bodied, slim, stylized. There were three other horses in the race, but people talked about them only in the possible ways in which their performances could influence the rivalry between these two: Gallant Fox, winner of the Preakness, the Wood Memorial, the Kentucky Derby; Whichone, who beat Gallant Fox in the Futurity last year.

There was a skim of mud on the track, but the rain at lunchtime had been light enough to leave it hard underneath. They started in front of the stands in perfect line after Gallant Fox had broken through as though to show the others what he looked like from behind. Sande, up on Gallant Fox, had a patch of plaster on his face, over cuts received in an automobile accident two days before. Thinking Sande might be more shaken up than he would admit, and knowing the shrewdness of the Whitney trainers, the crowd favored Whichone to win. But it was Sande's shirt, easy to see with its big polka-dots, that edged in front in the sprint to the first turn. Outsiders tried to catch him--Swinfield. Questionnaire. They moved up to his flanks, and then Sande gave Gallant Fox more rein and the space widened again. This happened twice. All the time Whichone, well behind, did not move--Whichone who, people said, had never been turned loose. Coming around the turn into the stretch he moved at last and the crowd screamed. Sande had swung wide to get firm ground, and Whichone gained. He moved closer, then no closer. Gallant Fox, with Sande humming coaxing words into his ear, held him even, ran across the line four lengths in front.

*For news of a U. S. family which did have four shillings ($1) on Blenheim, see p. 36.

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