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30 May 12
12:04
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Courtesy of the still-excellent, and chronically underused, Tony Morris (although not by TO&B, thankfully).
© Thoroughbred Owner & Breeder
The mystery of Bend Or
The identity of Jack The Ripper was not the only mystery of the 1880s, but unlike that one the debate about whether Derby hero Bend Or was, in fact, Bend Or, seems over……
Of the two great mysteries of the 1880s, one seems long odds against ever being solved. There have been plenty of theories and suspects, but can we be persuaded that Walter Sickert was Jack the Ripper? Pull the other one. The Duke of Clarence? Come off it, that’s far too fanciful.
But it appears that we do now have a solution to the other question of identity that surfaced in the same decade and for so long seemed to be impossible to resolve: who was the colt who finished first in the Derby of 1880? The record books will tell you he was Bend Or, a son of Doncaster and the Thormanby mare Rouge Rose, bred and owned by the 1st Duke of Westminster, trained by Robert Peck, and ridden to a narrow victory by Fred Archer. He later had an outstanding stud career, becoming sire of Ormonde, the best horse of the 19th century, and among his fourth-generation tail-male descendants was Phalaris, the most influential sire of the 20th century. It hardly needs saying he was a horse of tremendous significance in the development of the breed.
So where is the mystery? Well, the stud groom at Eaton, where Westminster’s stock was kept, said two colts, both chesnut sons of Doncaster, had been inadvertently switched after they left the stud, and that the one who raced as Bend Or was Tadcaster, the product of a Newminster mare, Clemence.
Bearing in mind that the groom, Richard Arnull, had been fired by Westminster and was working out his notice when he made the allegation, it might have been construed as a mischievous, even malicious, attempt to embarrass his employer. But it was said that Arnull persisted in his story until his dying day, long after the Epsom stewards had come to the decision that Bend Or was the horse he was supposed to be. Doubts remained, fuelled some years later by a statement from one of the stewards, James Lowther, indicating that from evidence he had obtained subsequently, he was inclined to the belief that he and his colleagues had come to the wrong conclusion. Sadly, he appears not to have divulged the nature of that later evidence. The matter had been brought to the attention of the Jockey Club in mid-July, seven weeks after the running of the Derby.
Acting on the information given to them by Arnull, Charles Brewer and his trainer Charles Blanton, joint-owners of runner-up Robert The Devil, wrote to the stewards and to Weatherbys, objecting to the result “on the ground that Bend Or was not the horse he was represented to be, either in the entry or at the time of the race.” They naturally also claimed the winner’s purse of £6,375.
The case was considered in four sessions over ten days, the first to decide on procedure, with witnesses examined on the second and third occasions. Some witnesses were re-examined on the fourth day before the stewards retired to deliberate, and after three-quarters of an hour they issued their verdict, declaring that Bend Or was Bend Or, and that the Derby result would stand.
All the meetings were conducted in private and none of the evidence presented was ever published. But, inevitably, a few snippets did emerge from those involved, not least that the Duke of Westminster’s private stud book was kept so haphazardly as to be a virtually worthless document. The Duke’s Master of the Horse, Colonel Barlow, had not even kept a record of the markings of the colts foaled in 1877 before they left the stud for Barrow’s stable in Newmarket, en route to Russley.
Evidence provided by Arnull and his two sons (both of whom had also been employed at Eaton) was all to the effect that Bend Or was Tadcaster. Just why the stewards needed to interview Peck and Sherwood, his head man, it was hard to imagine. Yes, they could confirm, from markings recorded, that the colts who arrived at Russley were those who had been at Barrow’s, and whose markings had been duly noted there. But that was not the issue; if there had been a switch, it had occurred because the pair had not been properly identified before they left Eaton.
Anyone aware of how the Jockey Club used to administer justice will not find it hard to imagine that the stewards would decline to take the word of common grooms against that of the nobility; the Duke of Westminster was the richest man in England at the time. They would have been at pains to avoid the slightest whiff of a scandal.
The affair had been pretty much of a nine-day wonder and the public soon put it to the back of their minds as they considered the forthcoming St Leger – won, incidentally, by Robert The Devil, with Bend Or the unplaced odds-on favourite. But from time to time the subject surfaced and for some reason it was resurrected in 1914, when it became subject of debate in the columns of Horse & Hound and the Bloodstock Breeders’ Review.
What emerged then were several items of circumstantial evidence that supported the stewards’ decision. Bend Or had very round hoofs, a characteristic common in the family from which Rouge Rose descended. A lot of Bend Or’s stock were crib-biters, a vice for which Rouge Rose was herself notorious. And the Russley blacksmith reported that Bend Or and the other produce of Rouge Rose were always easy to shoe; Tadcaster would not allow him near his hind feet and others out of Clemence were the same.
Besides, although both colts were chesnut, Bend Or was of the golden type with black spots, Tadcaster of the red variety and with lop-ears. There could be no mistaking them. Well, not when they were in training, but that was not the point.
An interesting fact that drew no comment in the 1914 debate was that in 1882 Clemence was covered by Bend Or. It is hard to imagine that the Duke of Westminster would have sanctioned that mating, if he had believed that Clemence was Bend Or’s dam. He did, though, quickly dispose of the resultant filly, Lenity, who ran three times in sellers for James Machell and was once placed second. She went on to breed several winners, none of them of much account.
The Bloodstock Breeders’ Review, in its issue of April 1914, observed: “There is little likelihood of any further light being thrown on the dispute. For all practical purposes, the decision of the Epsom stewards was final. We have cause to be thankful that it must stand, right or wrong.”
In 1880 nobody was aware of Gregor Mendel’s researches and the word genetics had yet to be coined. By 1914 that branch of science was new and little understood, even by those involved, and many practical horsemen were focusing on Bruce Lowe’s classification of female lines as a tool to apply in the mating of their mares.
We know now that Lowe’s ideas were nonsense; adherence to his figure system never helped anyone to produce a superior horse. But there was to be an unexpected by-product of his family classifications when geneticists came to discover mitochondria and recognise a factor that was passed solely in the maternal line. And when techniques were developed to extract DNA from the bones of dead horses, there was a way to verify or disprove their female lineage.
A team led by Mim Bower at Cambridge University got to work on the skeleton of Bend Or, long preserved in the Natural History Museum, to discover whether he came from the No. 1 family to which Rouge Rose belonged or the No. 2 family of Clemence. It’s time to re-write a million pedigrees! The skeleton’s mitochondrial DNA proved characteristic of the No. 2 family, the assumption being he was the son of Clemence. He could not have been out of Rouge Rose, despite all that circumstantial evidence.
Unlike his chief rival, whom he beat three times out of five, Robert The Devil made no mark as a sire, but he is still with us, a tribute to the taxidermist’s art, adorning Gibson’s saddlery in Newmarket. Celebrated as winner of the Grand Prix de Paris and St Leger, we must now recognise him as the horse who should also have been awarded the Derby.
© Thoroughbred Owner & Breeder
The mystery of Bend Or
The identity of Jack The Ripper was not the only mystery of the 1880s, but unlike that one the debate about whether Derby hero Bend Or was, in fact, Bend Or, seems over……
Of the two great mysteries of the 1880s, one seems long odds against ever being solved. There have been plenty of theories and suspects, but can we be persuaded that Walter Sickert was Jack the Ripper? Pull the other one. The Duke of Clarence? Come off it, that’s far too fanciful.
But it appears that we do now have a solution to the other question of identity that surfaced in the same decade and for so long seemed to be impossible to resolve: who was the colt who finished first in the Derby of 1880? The record books will tell you he was Bend Or, a son of Doncaster and the Thormanby mare Rouge Rose, bred and owned by the 1st Duke of Westminster, trained by Robert Peck, and ridden to a narrow victory by Fred Archer. He later had an outstanding stud career, becoming sire of Ormonde, the best horse of the 19th century, and among his fourth-generation tail-male descendants was Phalaris, the most influential sire of the 20th century. It hardly needs saying he was a horse of tremendous significance in the development of the breed.
So where is the mystery? Well, the stud groom at Eaton, where Westminster’s stock was kept, said two colts, both chesnut sons of Doncaster, had been inadvertently switched after they left the stud, and that the one who raced as Bend Or was Tadcaster, the product of a Newminster mare, Clemence.
Bearing in mind that the groom, Richard Arnull, had been fired by Westminster and was working out his notice when he made the allegation, it might have been construed as a mischievous, even malicious, attempt to embarrass his employer. But it was said that Arnull persisted in his story until his dying day, long after the Epsom stewards had come to the decision that Bend Or was the horse he was supposed to be. Doubts remained, fuelled some years later by a statement from one of the stewards, James Lowther, indicating that from evidence he had obtained subsequently, he was inclined to the belief that he and his colleagues had come to the wrong conclusion. Sadly, he appears not to have divulged the nature of that later evidence. The matter had been brought to the attention of the Jockey Club in mid-July, seven weeks after the running of the Derby.
Acting on the information given to them by Arnull, Charles Brewer and his trainer Charles Blanton, joint-owners of runner-up Robert The Devil, wrote to the stewards and to Weatherbys, objecting to the result “on the ground that Bend Or was not the horse he was represented to be, either in the entry or at the time of the race.” They naturally also claimed the winner’s purse of £6,375.
The case was considered in four sessions over ten days, the first to decide on procedure, with witnesses examined on the second and third occasions. Some witnesses were re-examined on the fourth day before the stewards retired to deliberate, and after three-quarters of an hour they issued their verdict, declaring that Bend Or was Bend Or, and that the Derby result would stand.
All the meetings were conducted in private and none of the evidence presented was ever published. But, inevitably, a few snippets did emerge from those involved, not least that the Duke of Westminster’s private stud book was kept so haphazardly as to be a virtually worthless document. The Duke’s Master of the Horse, Colonel Barlow, had not even kept a record of the markings of the colts foaled in 1877 before they left the stud for Barrow’s stable in Newmarket, en route to Russley.
Evidence provided by Arnull and his two sons (both of whom had also been employed at Eaton) was all to the effect that Bend Or was Tadcaster. Just why the stewards needed to interview Peck and Sherwood, his head man, it was hard to imagine. Yes, they could confirm, from markings recorded, that the colts who arrived at Russley were those who had been at Barrow’s, and whose markings had been duly noted there. But that was not the issue; if there had been a switch, it had occurred because the pair had not been properly identified before they left Eaton.
Anyone aware of how the Jockey Club used to administer justice will not find it hard to imagine that the stewards would decline to take the word of common grooms against that of the nobility; the Duke of Westminster was the richest man in England at the time. They would have been at pains to avoid the slightest whiff of a scandal.
The affair had been pretty much of a nine-day wonder and the public soon put it to the back of their minds as they considered the forthcoming St Leger – won, incidentally, by Robert The Devil, with Bend Or the unplaced odds-on favourite. But from time to time the subject surfaced and for some reason it was resurrected in 1914, when it became subject of debate in the columns of Horse & Hound and the Bloodstock Breeders’ Review.
What emerged then were several items of circumstantial evidence that supported the stewards’ decision. Bend Or had very round hoofs, a characteristic common in the family from which Rouge Rose descended. A lot of Bend Or’s stock were crib-biters, a vice for which Rouge Rose was herself notorious. And the Russley blacksmith reported that Bend Or and the other produce of Rouge Rose were always easy to shoe; Tadcaster would not allow him near his hind feet and others out of Clemence were the same.
Besides, although both colts were chesnut, Bend Or was of the golden type with black spots, Tadcaster of the red variety and with lop-ears. There could be no mistaking them. Well, not when they were in training, but that was not the point.
An interesting fact that drew no comment in the 1914 debate was that in 1882 Clemence was covered by Bend Or. It is hard to imagine that the Duke of Westminster would have sanctioned that mating, if he had believed that Clemence was Bend Or’s dam. He did, though, quickly dispose of the resultant filly, Lenity, who ran three times in sellers for James Machell and was once placed second. She went on to breed several winners, none of them of much account.
The Bloodstock Breeders’ Review, in its issue of April 1914, observed: “There is little likelihood of any further light being thrown on the dispute. For all practical purposes, the decision of the Epsom stewards was final. We have cause to be thankful that it must stand, right or wrong.”
In 1880 nobody was aware of Gregor Mendel’s researches and the word genetics had yet to be coined. By 1914 that branch of science was new and little understood, even by those involved, and many practical horsemen were focusing on Bruce Lowe’s classification of female lines as a tool to apply in the mating of their mares.
We know now that Lowe’s ideas were nonsense; adherence to his figure system never helped anyone to produce a superior horse. But there was to be an unexpected by-product of his family classifications when geneticists came to discover mitochondria and recognise a factor that was passed solely in the maternal line. And when techniques were developed to extract DNA from the bones of dead horses, there was a way to verify or disprove their female lineage.
A team led by Mim Bower at Cambridge University got to work on the skeleton of Bend Or, long preserved in the Natural History Museum, to discover whether he came from the No. 1 family to which Rouge Rose belonged or the No. 2 family of Clemence. It’s time to re-write a million pedigrees! The skeleton’s mitochondrial DNA proved characteristic of the No. 2 family, the assumption being he was the son of Clemence. He could not have been out of Rouge Rose, despite all that circumstantial evidence.
Unlike his chief rival, whom he beat three times out of five, Robert The Devil made no mark as a sire, but he is still with us, a tribute to the taxidermist’s art, adorning Gibson’s saddlery in Newmarket. Celebrated as winner of the Grand Prix de Paris and St Leger, we must now recognise him as the horse who should also have been awarded the Derby.
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Mystery still surrounds the 1962 Derby
The centenary of the most sensational Derby looms in 2013 but the events of 50 years ago were also troubling…..
Twelve months from now we shall be marking the centenary of the most sensational Derby ever run – the race in which suffragette Emily Davison received fatal injuries, the winner was disqualified and the third-place prize was given to the wrong horse.
But there is also a significant Derby anniversary to recall this month, as it was 50 years ago that seven of the 26 runners failed to complete the course. We can explode some of the myths that have grown up about the 1913 race – refuting the notion that Miss Davison threw herself in front of the King’s horse, providing the real reason why Craganour’s number was taken down, which had nothing to do with the alleged bumping and boring, maybe even explaining why the judge got in such a tizz – but exactly what occurred in the debacle of 1962 remains something of a mystery.
After 1962 had provided the coldest May that many could remember, June ushered in brighter weather and all four days of the Epsom meeting were blessed with warm sunshine. Although the ground was firm, the jockeys reported that there was no jar in it. The prospect of a pleasant afternoon in the sun and a big field for the Classic with open betting ensured that the course played host to the largest crowd for several years. Just a tiny minority witnessed the disaster and, because it happened so quickly, no-one was able to provide a reliable account.
“It was hard to focus on the race when it was clear that an unseen disaster had occurred on the hill”
The Derby being what it is, and always was, the field included plenty who had no pretensions to winning the prize. But just to have a runner in the race would satisfy the ambition of many owners and the nine whose colours were carried by colts dismissed at 100-1 could always cite the old proverb about “nothing ventured…” and point out that 100-1 chances had won the race before.
The colts in the crop foaled in 1959 had not distinguished themselves as two-year-olds. The two best juveniles were fillies La Tendresse and Display, the former rated fully 6lb clear of the leading colt, Timeform Gold Cup hero Miralgo. A son of Aureole, he at least could be more or less guaranteed to stay middle distances at three, something that could not be said of the four colts ranked immediately below him, who were all the products of speedy sires – Escort (by Palestine), Gustav and Sovereign Lord (both by Grey Sovereign), and Prince Poppa (by Princely Gift). Winter betting on the Derby chiefly featured Miralgo and Escort, the latter representing some wishful thinking that he might have acquired some stamina from broodmare sire Chanteur.
The 2,000 Guineas provided no worthwhile clues for Epsom, Miralgo fell from grace with defeats in both the Chester Vase and Lingfield Derby Trial, and among the few to advance their claims were the Ballydoyle pair Sebring and Larkspur, each successful in his prep race in Ireland, and Hethersett, who had only River Chanter and Heron to beat in the Brighton Derby Trial but accomplished the task easily.
As there had been no more than 1lb between the trio at two, it appeared that Hethersett had improved significantly, so he was promptly installed as the market leader, a position he held until Derby day itself, when he went off at 9-2, while Miralgo and Le Cantilien – both at 8-1 – were the only others at single-digit odds.
The field was already under orders when Prince d’Amour received a hefty kick on the stifle from a neighbour. He then had to be trotted around a few times to prove that he was still fit to start, a hiatus that might have caused problems for some of the more highly-strung individuals, but all seemed to cope well enough, and once Prince d’Amour was given the all-clear to take part the runners were despatched on pretty much even terms.
Calm before the storm
There was no hint of the drama to come as the tubed Romancero, just a maiden winner at Lingfield, stretched out clear on the uphill section, and he continued to show several lengths in front of Valentine at halfway, with River Chanter and Silver Cloud next. Miralgo, Sebring, Escort and Ribobo (one of those 100-1 shots) were also prominent as they began their descent towards Tattenham Corner.
For the vast majority of watchers in the stands, all that was visible in that area of the course was the densely-packed crowd on the downs, enjoying a day in the sunshine.
A few, hard by the rails halfway down the hill, may well have seen it all – the first bad step, and the chain reaction that followed, taking over a quarter of the field out of the race – but the sudden, instant confusion left it just a blur. Some of those with high-powered binoculars at the very top of the grandstand glimpsed a part of it, a couple of eagle-eyed pressmen calling out: “The favourite’s down!” Most observers had no idea what had happened until the runners were in the straight, when one was clearly riderless and there seemed to be rather fewer than had set off on their journey a couple of minutes earlier.
Then other loose horses began to appear and the scale of the mayhem became apparent. It was hard to focus on what was happening in the race when it was clear that an unseen disaster, perhaps even a tragedy, had occurred on the hill.
In fact there were three, if not four, different leaders in the straight. Valentine led around the turn, soon gave way to River Chanter, and then Sebring may just have got his head in front before his stable companion Larkspur passed him and opened a clear lead. Le Cantilien threw down a challenge that never really looked like succeeding and fellow French raider Arcor eventually came through to snatch second close home.
Larkspur was not welcomed to the winner’s enclosure with the customary raucous reception for a Derby hero. All thoughts were on what had happened out of sight; the ignorance of that preyed on minds.
Of course, in the 21st century there would be ways of ascertaining exactly what had happened. Not in 1962. The patrol camera was a recent innovation but it did not cover all areas of the course. Similarly, TV and newsreel folk had decided that cameras were better positioned elsewhere. There had to be a stewards’ enquiry, but what could be determined at that?
One jockey, Bobby Elliott (rider of Pindaric), was able to walk back to the weighing room; the riders of the other six who had parted company – somehow – with their mounts, were promptly removed to hospital. Who knew what had happened? The short answer was: nobody.
The stewards decided, understandably, that they could not apportion any blame. They could only assume that the problem was caused by bunching resulting from the worst contenders suddenly reaching the end of their tether, stopping or slowing abruptly.
Check out the form book now and you will find that seven horses fell. That’s as many as fell in that year’s Grand National. But at Aintree there were observers who could separate the fallers from those brought down. That was not the case at Epsom. Strictly speaking, the Epsom seven were not all fallers, but nobody could be definite about who had fallen and who had been made to fall.
The best guess seemed to be that Romulus had clipped heels with Crossen, then cannoned into Hethersett, all three jockeys parting company with their mounts on account of the impact. Four following contenders could not avoid the melee and their riders also hit the deck. But none of that could be taken as gospel.
Racehorses of 1962 said that there had never been a more unsatisfactory Derby; the Bloodstock Breeders’ Review of that year reported that it had been the most dramatic Derby in its long history.
Both judgements indicated that their authors remained ignorant of what made the 1913 renewal so much more sensational.
The centenary of the most sensational Derby looms in 2013 but the events of 50 years ago were also troubling…..
Twelve months from now we shall be marking the centenary of the most sensational Derby ever run – the race in which suffragette Emily Davison received fatal injuries, the winner was disqualified and the third-place prize was given to the wrong horse.
But there is also a significant Derby anniversary to recall this month, as it was 50 years ago that seven of the 26 runners failed to complete the course. We can explode some of the myths that have grown up about the 1913 race – refuting the notion that Miss Davison threw herself in front of the King’s horse, providing the real reason why Craganour’s number was taken down, which had nothing to do with the alleged bumping and boring, maybe even explaining why the judge got in such a tizz – but exactly what occurred in the debacle of 1962 remains something of a mystery.
After 1962 had provided the coldest May that many could remember, June ushered in brighter weather and all four days of the Epsom meeting were blessed with warm sunshine. Although the ground was firm, the jockeys reported that there was no jar in it. The prospect of a pleasant afternoon in the sun and a big field for the Classic with open betting ensured that the course played host to the largest crowd for several years. Just a tiny minority witnessed the disaster and, because it happened so quickly, no-one was able to provide a reliable account.
“It was hard to focus on the race when it was clear that an unseen disaster had occurred on the hill”
The Derby being what it is, and always was, the field included plenty who had no pretensions to winning the prize. But just to have a runner in the race would satisfy the ambition of many owners and the nine whose colours were carried by colts dismissed at 100-1 could always cite the old proverb about “nothing ventured…” and point out that 100-1 chances had won the race before.
The colts in the crop foaled in 1959 had not distinguished themselves as two-year-olds. The two best juveniles were fillies La Tendresse and Display, the former rated fully 6lb clear of the leading colt, Timeform Gold Cup hero Miralgo. A son of Aureole, he at least could be more or less guaranteed to stay middle distances at three, something that could not be said of the four colts ranked immediately below him, who were all the products of speedy sires – Escort (by Palestine), Gustav and Sovereign Lord (both by Grey Sovereign), and Prince Poppa (by Princely Gift). Winter betting on the Derby chiefly featured Miralgo and Escort, the latter representing some wishful thinking that he might have acquired some stamina from broodmare sire Chanteur.
The 2,000 Guineas provided no worthwhile clues for Epsom, Miralgo fell from grace with defeats in both the Chester Vase and Lingfield Derby Trial, and among the few to advance their claims were the Ballydoyle pair Sebring and Larkspur, each successful in his prep race in Ireland, and Hethersett, who had only River Chanter and Heron to beat in the Brighton Derby Trial but accomplished the task easily.
As there had been no more than 1lb between the trio at two, it appeared that Hethersett had improved significantly, so he was promptly installed as the market leader, a position he held until Derby day itself, when he went off at 9-2, while Miralgo and Le Cantilien – both at 8-1 – were the only others at single-digit odds.
The field was already under orders when Prince d’Amour received a hefty kick on the stifle from a neighbour. He then had to be trotted around a few times to prove that he was still fit to start, a hiatus that might have caused problems for some of the more highly-strung individuals, but all seemed to cope well enough, and once Prince d’Amour was given the all-clear to take part the runners were despatched on pretty much even terms.
Calm before the storm
There was no hint of the drama to come as the tubed Romancero, just a maiden winner at Lingfield, stretched out clear on the uphill section, and he continued to show several lengths in front of Valentine at halfway, with River Chanter and Silver Cloud next. Miralgo, Sebring, Escort and Ribobo (one of those 100-1 shots) were also prominent as they began their descent towards Tattenham Corner.
For the vast majority of watchers in the stands, all that was visible in that area of the course was the densely-packed crowd on the downs, enjoying a day in the sunshine.
A few, hard by the rails halfway down the hill, may well have seen it all – the first bad step, and the chain reaction that followed, taking over a quarter of the field out of the race – but the sudden, instant confusion left it just a blur. Some of those with high-powered binoculars at the very top of the grandstand glimpsed a part of it, a couple of eagle-eyed pressmen calling out: “The favourite’s down!” Most observers had no idea what had happened until the runners were in the straight, when one was clearly riderless and there seemed to be rather fewer than had set off on their journey a couple of minutes earlier.
Then other loose horses began to appear and the scale of the mayhem became apparent. It was hard to focus on what was happening in the race when it was clear that an unseen disaster, perhaps even a tragedy, had occurred on the hill.
In fact there were three, if not four, different leaders in the straight. Valentine led around the turn, soon gave way to River Chanter, and then Sebring may just have got his head in front before his stable companion Larkspur passed him and opened a clear lead. Le Cantilien threw down a challenge that never really looked like succeeding and fellow French raider Arcor eventually came through to snatch second close home.
Larkspur was not welcomed to the winner’s enclosure with the customary raucous reception for a Derby hero. All thoughts were on what had happened out of sight; the ignorance of that preyed on minds.
Of course, in the 21st century there would be ways of ascertaining exactly what had happened. Not in 1962. The patrol camera was a recent innovation but it did not cover all areas of the course. Similarly, TV and newsreel folk had decided that cameras were better positioned elsewhere. There had to be a stewards’ enquiry, but what could be determined at that?
One jockey, Bobby Elliott (rider of Pindaric), was able to walk back to the weighing room; the riders of the other six who had parted company – somehow – with their mounts, were promptly removed to hospital. Who knew what had happened? The short answer was: nobody.
The stewards decided, understandably, that they could not apportion any blame. They could only assume that the problem was caused by bunching resulting from the worst contenders suddenly reaching the end of their tether, stopping or slowing abruptly.
Check out the form book now and you will find that seven horses fell. That’s as many as fell in that year’s Grand National. But at Aintree there were observers who could separate the fallers from those brought down. That was not the case at Epsom. Strictly speaking, the Epsom seven were not all fallers, but nobody could be definite about who had fallen and who had been made to fall.
The best guess seemed to be that Romulus had clipped heels with Crossen, then cannoned into Hethersett, all three jockeys parting company with their mounts on account of the impact. Four following contenders could not avoid the melee and their riders also hit the deck. But none of that could be taken as gospel.
Racehorses of 1962 said that there had never been a more unsatisfactory Derby; the Bloodstock Breeders’ Review of that year reported that it had been the most dramatic Derby in its long history.
Both judgements indicated that their authors remained ignorant of what made the 1913 renewal so much more sensational.
Neither of the front two in the Derby, none of the front four in the Oaks. Everything else wins to varying degrees.
I am staring down the barrel tbh! But we remain hopeful.
You?
I am staring down the barrel tbh! But we remain hopeful.
You?
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