I see the sportin’ and daily papers have been discussin’ lately the old conundrum–Is the trot a natural gait?–and Robert Bonner has been quoted as believin’ that it isn’t. With all due respect for Mr, Bonner, I incline to George Wilkes’ idea that a trot is the natural gait, under certain circumstances, of every four-footed animal, and remember years ago. when some folks in St. Louis sent George Wilkes a big elk, who presented it to the Central Park, that whenever that elk took it into its head to go fast and make time in its enclosure, it always got into a regular trot—a regular, well-developed trot. too. just as genuine as that of any horse. The buffaloes on the plains out West also trot. So that settles it to my mind that a trot is a natural gait.
But then it is not the only natural gait, nor is it, by any means, the best gait for speed. Runnin’ for mere speed is much better than trottin’, and even a trottin’ horse has to be well trained in trottin’ before he does his best in that line. Like a good many other things, this trottin’, though it comes by nature, can be greatly improved by art, and that is where the trainer comes in.
A pace is quite as natural, too; even more natural to a horse than a trot, and some of our fastest trotters have begun by bein’ pacers, and were gradually trained from a pace to a trot. There was a famous horse, thirty live or forty years ago, on the American turf, called after the hero of Bulwer’s first successful novel, Pelham. This Pelham came from the North, and was at one time the fastest pacer in New England. Then Hiram Woodruff got hold of him and trained him into a trotter. He became one of the very best trotters of his da, too. Horace Jones, Whelan and other drivers, handled him at different times. He was at one period held to be the fastest horse in the United States.
There was another famous horse called Pilot, who first made a record as a pacer, and then as a trotter.
Sometimes a horse ambles or paces a certain length of lime, and then turns into a trotter of his own accord, like Cayuga Chief. This horse was at first only a pacer, and a rather slow one at that, used only for ladies’ ridin’. As a horse for women he got to be known all over Yankeedom. He had an easy gait and a fine appearance, with a coat of the most glossy and delicate brown, and a fine ‘blaze’ in the face. He was gentle, too, and so the ladies went wild over him. It was a singular fact that the horse seemed to know whenever he had a lady on his back, and liked it. When a man rode him, he would pace all right, but when a woman rode him, he would put on frills and would amble delightedly. This went on for some years until one afternoon, all of a sudden, when a lady was ridin’ him, he broke for the first time in his life into a trot, and kept on trottin’ ever afterwards, goin’ ever so much faster as a trotter than he ever had gone as a pacer. In a little while he trotted as fast as Pelham or Pilot.
Sometimes the pacin’ horse that look to trottin’ never changed this latter gait, but on several occasions the trotter has gone back on himself and gone back to his original pacin’. Hiram Woodruff lost a lot of money and got a lot of experience by a horse that did this sort of thing. The horse’s name was Dart, and he used to go like a dart. Woodruff had trained him from pacin’ on to trottin’, and had every confidence in him, but he went back on himself and Woodruff. One day Woodruff entered him for a race, and fell sure he would win with Dart. A great many, lookin’ at the horse, agreed with Woodruff, and a large amount of money was staked on the horse. Woodruff felt as sure of winnin’ as if the race had been already run. But at the very last moment there was the very deuce to pay. Dart suddenly took it into his head to pace instead of trot, and do what Woodruff could, Dart would pace and wouldn’t trot. Hiram was so surprised and ashamed of Dart’s behavior in this race that he wouldn’t have any more to do with him. But it learned him a lesson, which was that, in horses as in men. early habits will often return in later years and play havoc with all calculations.
It has been noticed that pacin’ horses who start off in an amblin’ gait often make the steadiest kind of trotters. Some of the finest racin’ mares this country has ever seen always started off in their trottin’ with a kind of amble. Robert Bonner’s gray mare Peerless started off with an amble. So did his famous chestnut mare Lady Palmer. Lorillard’s gray mare Blonde did the same sort of thing. So did Lady Moscow, Sontag, Topgallant and Tacony.
But perhaps the queerest fact of all is that there have been any number of trotters that began their performances by seemin’ to hobble as if they were lame. Some of the most famous trotters have gone round a race-course hobblin’ and limpin’ as if lame, when driven slow.
There was a famous mare once, fast as the wind, winnin’ for her backers any amount of money, called “The Queen of Trumps.” This animal would make her appearance on the race-course limpin’, and those who didn’t know her and saw her for the first time would wonder at her appearance, and would swear that she had gone dead lame. But as soon as she had started in the race this dead-lame beast would become the most live specimen of speed one could wish to see. Her owner used to say that he believed the mare played this dead-lame racket on purpose just to have a little fun at first all to herself and to astonish the ‘greenies.’ And horses are such intelligent creatures that probably this this was really the case.
And there is one thing certain, whether trottin’ is a natural or an artificial gait, the American horses have always had the knack of it more than the English horses. This is one of the few points of American superiority that are freely and fully conceded even by the English ’emselves, though for that matter, in the face of all the facts patent to all the world, they couldn’t have the impudence to deny it. They didn’t own up, though without a struggle. They kicked against it as long as they could.
When the first crack American trotter, the horse Alexander, was brought over to England, the London sportin’ papers gave him “the grand laugh” at first. And really Alexander’s behavior at first justified all the sneers flung at him. He didn’t go for a cent, could hardly be said to trot at all. The turfites all took him to be a “fake.” Pretty soon another American horse came over, the horse Rattler, under the care of the great driver, Bill Whelan. Rattler, like Alexander, got the grand laugh, but, unlike Alexander, he didn’t deserve it, and proved it by winnin’ his races in fine style, showin’ that there was such a thing as the American trottin’ horse, and that he was really a first-class institution.
Then the gentleman who had bought this Alexander horse sent for Bill Whelan to see if he couldn’t do somethin’ with Alexander as he had with Rattler. The sportin’ papers ridiculed this idea, and said that Rattler’s victories were mere accidents, but that Alexander and the average American trotters were n. g., anyway. Whelan said nothin’, but went and took a look at Alexander. He found the horse all right, but saw that people in charge of him didn’t know how to handle a trotter. He thereupon gave the English grooms some American advice about horseflesh, which, instead of takin’ in good part, they all, and the sportin’ papers, who took the matter up, highly resented. This made Whelan mad, and to show he was right, he offered to win a race with Alexander—just as he was—played-out as they thought him—if he and only he himself, was allowed to handle him.
They couldn’t well help agreein’ to this, so it was arranged for, though almost everybody bet against Alexander and Bill Whelan. But, to the surprise and loss of “almost everybody,” Alexander and Bill Whelan won in fine style.
“It takes an American horseman to manage an American horse,” said Bill Whelan after the race, and the remark got into the papers. It hit the Englishmen hard, as it showed not only that the English trotters were not so good as the American, but that the Englishmen didn’t know how to handle trotters as well as the Americans. And from that time on the American trottin’ horse has been the boss of the world.
A curious attempt was once made to get up a series of races between American trotters on English soil. The drivers ’emselves bein’ American as well as the horses, everythin’ about the races bein’ American except the locality. The idea of this was suggested durin’ the furore that Rattler made over in England with Bill Whelan. The news of the American horse’s triumphs got over to this country by the packet ships, and some of Hiram Woodruff’s admirers, jealous of the notoriety Whelan was makin’, suggested that Hiram should take another crack American racer, the famous horse Dutchman, and bring him over to England to race with Rattler.
Hiram liked the idea, the American public liked the idea, and I don’t doubt that the English would have liked the idea, if they had only had a chance to see it realized, which it wasn’t. And all on account of a gentleman from Philadelphia who happened to be the owner of Dutchman at this time.
He wanted too much money, or what was thought too much money then, for that horse. The prudent Philadelphian was willin’ to sell Dutchman for $3,000 and a fine black mare in Woodruff’s keepin’, worth $1,000 more.
The party that backed Woodruff was willin’ to pay only $2,700 and throw in the black mare. And that $300 spoiled the whole business. The Philadelphian wouldn’t come down, the other party wouldn’t go up, and so Woodruff and Dutchman never raced against Rattler and Whelan, and American horses have never yet trotted against each other on English soil. Perhaps they will some day. It would be a big thing. I am sure.
[Editor’s notes: The content of this column can be almost certainly attributed to Harry Hill himself. Hill was raised in Epsom racing stables; his first venture in New York City was as a liveryman. He owned his own racing trotters, and was friendly with many of the leading horsemen in America.]
