»^. 
 
 SLOAN 
 
 By HIMSELF 
 

 
3 9090 013 
 
 HH 
 
 419 126 
 
 TOD SLOAN 
 
 Webster Family Library of Veterinary Medicine 
 Cummings School of Veterinary svledicine at 
 Tufts University 
 200 Westboro Road 
 Nort;nGrafiGn,MA01538 
 
In 1900 
 
 Afr last English photograph 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 BY 
 
 HIMSELF 
 
 EDITED BY 
 
 A. DICK LUCKMAN 
 
 AUTHOR OF "sharps, FLATS, GAMBLERS AND RACEHORSES' 
 
 ^ 
 
 WITH THIRTY-TWO ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 BRENTANO'S 
 
 MDCCCCXV 
 
PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN BY 
 THE RIVERSIDE PRESS LIMITED, EDINBURGH 
 
TO 
 
 MY FRIEND 
 
 FRANK C. JACOTT 
 
 WHOSE SYMPATHY AND ENCOURAGEMENT 
 
 IN MANY TRYING MOMENTS 
 
 WILL BE A LASTING 
 
 MEMORY 
 
 July 1915 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 I. TOD Sloan's reminiscences 
 
 II. MAKING BAD AS A JOCKEY 
 
 III. " MONKEY ON THE STICK " IN PRACTICE 
 
 IV. START IN NEW YORK 
 
 V. w. c. Whitney's liberality 
 
 VI. FIRST trip to ENGLAND 
 
 VII. TALKS WITH LORD WILLIAM BERESFORD 
 
 VIII. SECOND IMPRESSIONS OF ENGLAND 
 
 IX. A GLORIOUS WIND-UP 
 
 X. HOLIDAY INCIDENTS 
 
 XL SOMETHING ABOUT CLOTHES 
 
 XII. THE LATE KING EDWARD . 
 
 XIII. NUNSUCH's CAMBRIDGESHIRE 
 
 XrV. A PERIOD OF SUCCESS 
 
 XV. TRAINERS — ^AND TRAINERS 
 
 XVI. ENGLAND AND AMERICA . 
 
 XVII. KNIGHT OF THE THISTLE 
 
 XVIII. HOLOCAUST 
 
 XIX. FLYING FOX AND CAIMAN 
 
 XX. JOCKEYS AND JOCKEYSHIP 
 
 XXI. THE BIG PLUNGER 
 
 1 
 
 8 
 
 25 
 
 31 
 
 38 
 
 45 
 
 52 
 
 59 
 
 65 
 
 73 
 
 81 
 
 87 
 
 95 
 
 102 
 
 112 
 
 119 
 
 128 
 
 134 
 
 141 
 
 146 
 
 153 
 
 Vll 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 XXII. A VISIT TO AMERICA . 
 XXIII. THE ASCOT INCIDENT . 
 
 XXIV. merman's gold cup . 
 
 XXV. CODOMAN 
 XXVI. DARK CLOUDS 
 XXVII. NABOT 
 XXVIII. AT THE TRAPS 
 XXIX. " SLOAN's chance HOPELESS 
 XXX. DOPE . 
 XXXI. MY MARRIAGE 
 XXXII. HOPE DEFERRED 
 
 XXXIII. THE THEODORE MYERS STABLE 
 
 XXXIV. SOME MINOR SUCCESSES 
 XXXV. MY DOG PIPER 
 
 XXXVI. A LITTLE FIGHTING . 
 
 XXXVII. MAKING A BOOK 
 
 XXXVIII. SUGGESTIONS . 
 
 XXXIX. PRACTICAL JOCKEYSHIP 
 
 XL. MORE SUGGESTIONS 
 
 XLI. FINIS . 
 
 PAGB 
 
 161 
 
 168 
 
 174 
 
 180 
 
 187 
 
 200 
 
 206 
 
 213 
 
 222 
 
 228 
 
 235 
 
 242 
 
 248 
 
 256 
 
 262 
 
 269 
 
 280 
 
 286 
 
 297 
 
 305 
 
 Vlll 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 In 1900 ...... 
 
 Tod Sloan: From Spy's Caricature in "Vanity Fair" 
 
 Mr Charles F. Hanlon . 
 
 George E. Smith : " Pittsburg Phil " . 
 
 Lord Marcus Beresford and Mr Richard Marsh 
 
 King Edward — then Prince of Wales — driving 
 at Newmarket 
 
 My First Year in England 
 
 Beaten on Caiman by Flying Fox 
 
 Winning the Jubilee on Knight of the Thistle 
 
 In King Edward's Colours 
 
 Lord William Beresford on the Road to Epsom 
 
 Lester ReifF .... 
 
 Johnny ReifF .... 
 
 Returning to Scale after Merman's Gold Cup 
 
 Walter Davis .... 
 
 "The Flying Bird" and Tod Sloan . 
 
 Prince Poniatowski and Tod Sloan 
 
 M. Charron's First Lesson in Riding . 
 
 Rose de Mai .... 
 
 Lord Carnarvon and Tod Sloan at Longchamps 
 
 Miss Julia Sanderson 
 
 At the Carlton Hotel, Nice 
 
 The First Time an Aeroplane carried Four 
 People .... 
 
 After the St Moritz Annual Billiard Tournament 
 
 Frontispiece 
 
 To face page 10 
 
 >> )) -^^ 
 
 48 
 
 96 
 
 100 
 
 132 
 
 132 
 
 142 
 
 144 
 
 146 
 160 
 
 176 
 
 182 
 
 206 
 
 211 
 
 215 
 
 218 
 
 224 
 
 231 
 
 241 
 
 1) 
 
 » 
 
 »> 
 
 }> 
 >) 
 
 » 
 
 248 
 254 
 
 IX 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 Shooting Clay Pigeons at St Moritz . 
 
 With my Dog, Piper, at St Moritz . 
 
 In Algiers .... 
 
 Mr Theodore Myers's Training Quarters 
 
 Working for the Ambulance 
 
 Two Pirates : Milton Henry and Tod Sloan 
 
 "Henry" . . . • 
 
 A Hospital Garden Scene 
 
 My Editor .... 
 
 To face page 256 
 
 „ „ 258 
 
 ., 272 
 
 „ 274 
 
 276 
 
 278 
 
 279 
 302 
 306 
 
 >> 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 For many years I have had a wish to collect the 
 incidents of Tod Sloan's life. The opportunity never 
 seemed to arrive. However, with the strenuous times 
 of the Great War, and soon after Paris had been threatened 
 by a German occupation, I found my chance. 
 
 There is a double purpose in writing Sloan'' s life. I 
 had heard him telling so many good stories about himself, 
 and about others, that I thought it would be a pity that 
 they should be lost to the present-day public and to future 
 generations. I was sure too that many phases of his 
 career would typify life preceding 1915, and that this book 
 might be as interesting in the years to come as it is to-day 
 to those who kfiow Sloan personally. 
 
 Tod Sloan is one of the best-known individualities in 
 Paris, London, New York and other great cities. He 
 has been caricatured by the best- known artists, and written 
 about in newspapers, magazines and books. His career 
 has been such a varied one that even a single chapter of 
 his life could be elaborated without undue padding into 
 a most readable volume. My endeavour has been to get 
 Sloan to recount the story of his life in chronological order, 
 at the same time not missing little sidelights and stories 
 which cropped up as we went along, and which could be 
 inserted here and there without breaking off the story. 
 
 There are certain things which I can say about Sloan 
 which he is too diffident to allude to himself except in the 
 barest fashion. Years ago in The Daily Express in a 
 series of articles I endeavoured to lead an appeal to the 
 stewards of the Jockey Club for the renewal of Sloan's 
 
 xi 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 licence, but unfortunately it came to nothing. One head- 
 ing I remember began " There should be no such thing as 
 a life sentence.^'' In those words is the gist of the whole 
 matter. If has always seemed incredible that after years 
 of punishment Sloan should not be reinstated. It is 
 not so much a qu£stion whether he would be able or would 
 want to ride again. It is rather that a stigma is attached 
 to a great artist in riding when an intimation is given to 
 him that he must not apply for a licence for it would be 
 refused. Two wrongs don^t make a right, and it is no 
 use comparing Sloan'' s alleged offences with those of other 
 riders who have been put on foot and then given their 
 ticket in less than three years. Fifteen years is indeed 
 a terrible time for any intelligent man to be living in 
 hopes and to find those hopes cast down as year follows 
 year. 
 
 It is a common mistake to think that Sloan was ever 
 warned off. The number of times I have been asked 
 " What was Sloan warned off for 9''^ I cannot reckon; 
 all that happened to him was that he was told that 
 he had better not put in his application. He has been 
 allowed to ride at exercise, and he has received direct 
 information that there was no objection at all to his going 
 on English racecourses. Indeed racegoers can testify 
 to the many meetings he has been to ever since the time 
 he had perforce to retire from the saddle. Now a jockey 
 who is warned off, or even suspended, is not allowed to 
 frequent any enclosure on a racecourse. However, that 
 is only a little point which this book will make clear. 
 
 It is an interesting coincidence that Tod Sloan first 
 made the acquaintance of racehorses in 1886, the year 
 in which poor Fred Archer made his exit. Opinions 
 will always be expressed and will always differ about 
 the comparative merits of Archer and Sloan as jockeys. 
 The comparison is unnecessary : the former was the 
 
 xii 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 greatest exponent in the last fifty years of the old style — 
 and Sloan discovered the new. That this pair were the 
 finest jockeys ever seen by living racing men admits of 
 no doubt. Perhaps the two of them shared equally the 
 faculty of judging pace. In strength of finishing the 
 style of Archer may have been more impressive, but the 
 gift of knowing the peculiarities of an animal, and wheed- 
 ling a horse of doubtful courage to do something for his 
 jockey, has been possessed by Sloan to a greater extent 
 than by any other jockey the writer has ever seen. One 
 has only to see Sloan with cats, dogs or horses in a yard 
 to realise that he might have done anything he wished 
 as an animal trainer. The way he can make friends 
 with a horse who will not let others come near him is 
 remarkable. Not only that, but he will make a horse do 
 whatever he likes. There was one animal in particular 
 at Maisons Laffitte which Tod Sloan could induce to eat 
 anything he liked. It didn't matter whether it was a 
 potato, bread or fruit. The grimaces that old horse 
 would make scrunching up an orange was the greatest 
 comedy possible. As long as Sloan would eat some of 
 it himself then the horse would follow his example. 
 There was another animal who would lift him up by 
 the jacket in his teeth and put him down as gently as 
 a lamb, never hurting him in the slightest. I merely 
 relate these two incidents to show the almost hypnotic 
 influence Sloan has over horses. Does it not suggest, 
 therefore, that there may be some extraordinary sympathy 
 between man and beast which contributed in a measure 
 to Sloan's racing successes ? 
 
 Sloan is a man of super-intelligence, and his views 
 about most things suggest that had he gone into another 
 walk of life he would have been equally successful. But 
 it was too late after that downfall at the end of 1900 to 
 shape himself seriously for other pursuits. Nevertheless 
 
 xiii 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 his intelligence has enabled him to live — and to keep up the 
 extravagance of a dozen or more of the best cigars daily ! 
 The number of people he has known and the countries 
 he has lived in should make the narrative which follows 
 appeal to a far wider circle of readers than is comprised 
 by merely racing people. 
 
 That well-known sporting editor of books and maga- 
 zines, Mr Lyman Horace Weeks, wrote some years ago : 
 
 " Successful as Sloan has been in his riding and in 
 his personal fortunes, it has all been deserved and worthily 
 supported by the conscientious discharge of professional 
 engagements and a constant adherence to honourable 
 turf methods. In this he has set a laudable example 
 to the members of his profession. At the same time, his 
 record is a shining example of the certain reward that 
 the turf holds forth to men of his calibre.'''^ 
 
 The same writer also said of him in 1897 : " One 
 striking feature of his riding is that his judgment never 
 deserts him at any stage of the race ; from start to finish 
 he uses headwork, placing his mount in a way to secure 
 every possible advantage.'''' 
 
 Frankly I have had some difficulty during the prepara- 
 tion of this book to get Tod Sloan to speak sufficiently of 
 himself. While as a private citizen he has retained 
 absolute confidence in himself, and can be quite as assertive 
 as the next man about what he thinks, I have had a diffi- 
 culty on occasions in getting him to speak out sufficiently 
 as to what big things he has done. And yet he will be 
 quite talkative as to his weaknesses ! 
 
 An American trainer, after this book was finished, 
 called my attention to various little episodes which have 
 not been dealt with by Sloan himself. For instance, 
 from the records my friend the trainer possesses it appears 
 that in 1895 Sloan had 442 mounts, of which he won 
 132, or about 30 per cent., and in the following year he 
 
 xiv 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 scored over 36 per cent, of his mounts, and he was placed 
 over 130 times. It was in 1895 that he first rode four 
 winners in a day. That was in California. None of 
 the riders in 1897 came near him for average. It was 
 in 1898 at Gravesend (U.S.A.) he won five races — in 
 fact all he rode in— in one day ; and on three successive 
 days at Coney Island he won all three races he rode 
 in. 
 
 It seems strange to hear and read that Sloan was at 
 one time a ''very prudent fellow,'' hut does it not strike 
 you that his imprudence in later yeurs may have been 
 caused by his always being surrounded, especially in 
 England, by many who were not the best of companions 
 for him ? Sloan makes no excuses for himself ; in fact 
 he would take the whole burden of responsibility for his 
 faults on his own shoulders. But there is no doubt that 
 the fuss made of him gave him an exalted idea of his own 
 importance — and, mind you, this is from his own lips. 
 There are scores of people who read this book who knew 
 Sloan intimately when he was riding in England, but 
 none of them need take it personally when I say that there 
 were many in this country who simply spoilt him. That 
 is the reason why Sloan during that period, and the 
 months which led up to his downfall, was more to be 
 pitied than scorned. As he has sat in his parlour 
 smoking a big cigar and chewing over his past, while 
 doing the same to the cigar, he has reviewed those days 
 from 1897 to the end of 1900, and also some of the incidents 
 afterwards, especially his regret that there was no one. 
 to stop him taking that ill-advised action against the 
 Societe d' Encouragement. Mind you, it must be ad- 
 mitted that Sloan is not the easiest proposition to lead, 
 but personally I can vouch for it that he is easy enough 
 to lead when the advice given is sound, even though it 
 may be opposed to the first views he has taken. I do not 
 
 XV 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 mean to say that I have a monopoly of wisdom, but many 
 of us who are very weak about the management of our 
 own affairs often with age develop a striking insight into 
 what is best for others, and on no single occasion can I 
 remember whole-souled friendly counsel being ignored 
 by Sloan. 
 
 A. Dick Luckman. 
 
 XVI 
 
CHAPTER I 
 
 TOD Sloan's reminiscences 
 
 My Christened Name — Beyond the Dreams of a Black Dog — Ignorance 
 and Fear of Horses — First Time in the Saddle — Men I have met 
 
 After the death of my mother when I was five, and of 
 my adopted parents, or rather the people who adopted 
 me, under their own name, Blauser, I had various 
 designations. My real name, that which I was 
 christened by, is James Forman Sloan. The name 
 Todhunter came from my father nicknaming me 
 " Toad " (because I was so small), and then shortened 
 to Tod, and the " Todhunter " was the variation of 
 someone, I forget whom. 
 
 AVlien I was left alone by those I have never ceased 
 to grieve for, my first faithful friend was a black dog, 
 Tony. We would sit trying to entice fish out of the 
 water, where they were not before I came around with 
 my rod, and I felt he looked at me as if he thought 
 something of the very small boy beside him. He would 
 gaze at me when I played chequers, for I was seldom 
 if ever beaten : it was a sort of gift handed me by 
 Nature to be a phenomenon at the game. In fact, 
 I had an uncanny vision for the game known in 
 England as draughts. 
 
 But neither Tony nor I knew what was before me. 
 There was never an idea round about my home in 
 Kokomo, Indiana, that a horse was anything but a 
 curiosity. My father had never driven even a donkey. 
 How could Tony know — scared as I always was at the 
 idea of a horse — ^that I should some day shine in the 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 world Tony and I knew only from picture-books, and 
 that I should be shaken by the hand and talked with 
 by the Prince whose coloured picture was given to us 
 by the local grocery store at Christmas ? That prince 
 was to be King of England. 
 
 There were, too, lesser lights of American growth. 
 I would have the weekly paper, and see the picture of 
 John L. Sullivan, and when we looked at the portraits 
 I would murmur : " Gee ! Tony, we have expected this 
 paper to-day, shall we ever have a handshaking ac- 
 quaintance with him ? What a pride it would be to 
 meet ' John L.' ! And if only he would notice me 
 some day ! " 
 
 In my humble way I was to come out of obscurity. 
 From playing truant from school I was to show the 
 world how weight could be properly distributed on a 
 horse ; I was to be the possessor at one time of nearer 
 half a million dollars than a quarter ; I was to meet 
 almost every celebrity in the world they and I flourished 
 in. I am suggesting Tod Sloan myself — the boy, the 
 man, the jockey. Then came the reverse of fortune, 
 the facts of which shall be told; the grim battling; 
 hoping against hope; the procession of years full of 
 incident; but with the constant open sore of dis- 
 appointment. 
 
 A sense of humour can save our reason and the 
 jokes of existence can make me laugh, and perhaps 
 you will laugh with me — who knows ! A jockey's 
 tears are for himself, his smiles can be shared with 
 the next fellow. All the same, who would have 
 thought, when I was run away with, on an old horse, 
 with me grabbing him round his neck, that, later, 
 I was to sail in for race after race for the great owners 
 of England and America. 
 
 I have said I was frightened at the sight of a horse. 
 
FIRST TIME IN THE SADDLE 
 
 It came about like this. We had to follow the funeral 
 of a boy who was drowned in a flood through being 
 reckless. I wanted to see him buried, but as the 
 cemetery was a long way off, and I was late, I " stole " 
 a horse — that is to say, I borrowed him out of a livery 
 stable near where I was working. This horse I had 
 no knowledge of anyone having ridden before, for at 
 least three months, at all events. I got on the horse 
 — he was a grey, I remember — and the stirrup-leathers 
 were shortened by a chum of mine to the last hole, 
 and even then were too long ! So I had to tuck my 
 feet into the leather loops. How I got round my 
 corner when the grey wanted to go round his is 
 something I shall never forget. 
 
 That horse knew he had a kid of under forty-five 
 lb. on his back. I am sure of it, although I hadn't 
 learnt horse language in those days. However, it 
 was ordained that there were not to be two corpses 
 at that funeral, and we did arrive at the graveyard. 
 I know I didn't look three feet high when I got off that 
 horse. He was quite young. He just sniffed at me, 
 then shook his head, and champed up the grass. 
 When I got back to him his contempt seemed to have 
 increased. Wliether it was the sour grass, or that he 
 really wanted to be stretched out at a gallop, I don't 
 know. The other visitors to the funeral had gone on 
 ahead, and how to get up on the saddle was a licker 
 to me. I tried to get him to a fence so that I could 
 climb on his back, but he wouldn't have it. I wanted 
 my way, but he had his. At last I made one dash 
 for it, but before T could get either on or off he had 
 raced away with me. I was embracing his neck ! 
 I got my right foot through the leather, but the other 
 hung down. I did not dare to drop off, for that would 
 have been certain suicide. 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 People could see me now. Everyone yelled to me 
 to stick on. Part of the journey was over rough 
 cobbles, and the grey must have stumbled half-a-dozen 
 times. I swore to myself that, if I ever got off alive, 
 I would only look for a horse after that in a zoo- 
 logical gardens. He seemed to go faster with every 
 furlong he went. At last he hesitated and slackened, 
 and I steered him to a fence and a fellow rushed out 
 and grabbed him. 
 
 " You're all right now, Tod," he said. " I'll lead 
 him home; but you stick in the saddle just to show 
 'em that you didn't come off." 
 
 " You take him home," I said. " I've done 
 enough jockey business for one day. You don't 
 catch me on a horse again in a hurry." 
 
 It was a darned funny thing that, years after, when 
 riding in a big race in England, having had already two 
 successes that day, the whole incident of the grey 
 broncho came back to me. I was showing the way 
 home on that English track on another grey, and the 
 memory suddenly came into my head so vividly that 
 I began to laugh. The fellow who was on the horse 
 that was running second, just at the shoulder of mine, 
 shouted : " You're laughing : you haven't won yet." 
 He thought I was jeering him. 
 
 This is all a sort of start to my life's experiences, 
 but here the introduction will not bother you. There 
 will be many other things to say about all those I 
 met, for, before I came to England and saw for the 
 first time the Prince of Wales and all the nobility and 
 great owners of the country, I came next to many of 
 the celebrities in my own land. The great Buffalo 
 Bill (Colonel Cody) nursed me on his knee when almost 
 a baby, and it was he that made me crazy for fire- 
 arms of all kinds. I remember that he let me try one 
 
 4 
 
MEN I HAVE MET 
 
 of his revolvers one day, and all the time even till now 
 I have had a longing for rifles, sporting guns, Mausers, 
 and have even tried my hand — quite recently — with 
 some success with the latest quick-firer. 
 
 Others with whom I came in close touch were Frank 
 James, the brother of Jesse James. They were both 
 among the notorious bandits of America ; the latter 
 was killed by a pal, but Frank, after he received a 
 pardon, used to hold the forward flag on several race- 
 tracks. However, there is no need to give a list, for 
 they will come up in due order as the story of my 
 life progresses. 
 
 Little did I dream when I saw one of the Valkyries 
 compete for the America Cup that I should meet and 
 ride for Lord Dunraven. Lord William Beresford, 
 one of the greatest of friends to me, had only been 
 heard of : there will be such a lot to say of him. 
 There was my acquaintance with John L. Sullivan 
 and James Corbett. I shall recall how I referee-ed 
 one of the first matches the great French billiard expert, 
 Fournier, played in America. Then reference must 
 be made to the well-known Riley Grannan, who came 
 near bringing off one of the greatest betting coups at 
 Newmarket. I have played bridge and talked till 
 I was tired to the late John W. Gates, the Chicago 
 millionaire — " bet-you-a-million Gates." George E. 
 Smith, at one time a simple cork cutter, and who 
 as a millionaire backer was known to the world 
 as " Pittsburg Phil," was a constant companion of 
 mine. He made a huge fortune backing horses in 
 America. I have never known two men more alike 
 in their living and character than " Pittsburg Phil " 
 and Charlie Hannam, who has had much the same kind 
 of success in England. 
 
 There are scores of others too to write of. 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 I must also discuss how from close observation and 
 from constant visits to the starting-post I made sure 
 in my own mind that I could get a start and beat well- 
 known English jockeys. 
 
 It's right here that I want to give the exact reason 
 for ever leaving America, and how it came about. 
 All the details of my arrival and early sorrows and joys 
 will be told in due order. In the winter of 1896- 
 1897 the late Tom Loates, who, as everyone knows, 
 was one of the English crack jockeys, came out to 
 New York for a vacation and to have a rest for a time. 
 He was a good deal about with Jack Macdonald, the 
 poor fellow who was killed in a railway accident at 
 Salisbury a few years back. When Tom Loates had 
 been in New York some time I put myself at his 
 disposal to make his stay there a merrier one if pos- 
 sible, and we spent a considerable time together. I 
 was in a position to show him round, for not only was 
 I saving about fifty thousand dollars a year but I 
 was also busily engaged in spending about two-thirds 
 of that sum ! Loates and I saw a good deal of each 
 other, and with the early opening of the racing season 
 at Morris Park I got the idea that I would like to do 
 Tommy a good turn. There were two cinches that I 
 was engaged for, a brace of real good things I thought 
 any kid could get up on and ride home, so I went to 
 him and told him that, as the Stewards were also 
 anxious for him to ride, I could arrange for him to 
 have the two mounts. The American public were 
 very interested to see England's crack jockey, and I 
 can say with all sincerity I wanted to give my pal a 
 chance to show himself on a New York track. But 
 I couldn't argue him into it. He said that as he was 
 in America for his health he was afraid of what Mr 
 Leopold de Rothschild would think if he got in the 
 
 6 
 
TOM LOATES 
 
 saddle. However, whether he was fit to ride or not 
 makes no matter. He backed my two mounts and 
 both of them won. We had dinner that night and he 
 thanked me. He liad won a nice bit of dough. A 
 few days after, on the eve of his leaving for England, 
 he was interviewed by one of the newspaper men, and 
 was asked whom he thought were the best American 
 jockeys. He answered that Fred Taral was quite 
 a good rider, and also the coloured boy, Willie Sims, 
 while among the younger crowd he had noticed a 
 promising boy in the little kid Winnie O'Connor. 
 It didn't matter much, for I was doing too well 
 financially, and riding too many winners to need a 
 booster, but here was my friend giving a story to a 
 leading paper, and not only did he put a coloured 
 boy before me, but left my name out altogether ! I 
 wasn't exactly sore, but from that time I had a fixed 
 determination to go to England to see what I could 
 do against him. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 MAKING BAD AS A JOCKEY 
 
 Start as an Aeronaut — Peddling Balloons — " \Vlio's the Boy for the 
 Parachute ? '' — Joining a Stable — Worse and Worse — More Runa- 
 way Rides — Become a Cook 
 
 My father, who had been an officer in the United 
 States Army, first had a look at his latest kid on 10th 
 August 1874. I had two brothers and one sister, and 
 my first appearance on any track was on the date just 
 mentioned at Bunker Hill, twelve miles from Kokomo, 
 Indiana. Father, who had fought in the Civil War 
 and was made prisoner at Gettysburg, never drank, 
 and didn't feel called upon to buy drinks for the boys 
 who came to congratulate him. Some time after 
 I was born he started in business at Kokomo. The 
 combination of the two shows he ran seems fanny to 
 us now, although it was quite serious at the time. 
 At one entrance to the building he occupied was a 
 swell barber's shop, and at the other door, to the left, 
 was his real estate office. He made a good living 
 out of both. He used to play the violin very well, 
 and I suppose we got the habit of whistling from 
 following the tunes, both my brother " Cash " and I 
 have often been cuffed for the habit. I have men- 
 tioned that I was a champion chequers player ; they 
 said that I used to whistle my opponents off their 
 game : I'd never stop. After my mother died my 
 father was a bit too easy with me ; in fact, he was too 
 lenient altogether. I would go out in the fields with 
 Tony and fish, fish, all day long, instead of going to 
 
 8 
 
START AS AN AERONAUT 
 
 school. At least it gave me a taste for the open air. 
 I was captain of the baseball crowd in our small 
 town, giving orders to fellows four and five years 
 older than I was. In fact, I took it on myself to boss 
 them all, and they stood for it. Sometimes I got near 
 getting a licking, but I suppose I was too small for them 
 to take very seriously, although I could sting them a 
 bit with my tongue, which was bitter even then. 
 
 I had stayed away from school so much, roaming 
 about with my dog Tony, that one day the folks at 
 home threatened to put me in the Reformatory 
 School. Tony and I both cried and I asked him what 
 he would do, and he sort of pointed away to the 
 west where the sun was setting, and I took him as a 
 pointer and determined to make for my aunt's house, 
 about twenty miles away. Tony seemed to under- 
 stand and at daybreak we set out on the train. It 
 seemed a fearful journey to me then — but remember I 
 hadn't been out of Kokomo and that I was only about 
 thirteen years old. The Reformatory had scared me 
 and I kept on thinking I must help myself somehow ; 
 I'd surely be the butt of the town if I had to be sent 
 to be " cured." 
 
 Tony and I therefore " hiked " it off for " aunt's "— 
 my real aunt, my real mother's sister. She wasn't 
 altogether all over me when I arrived and asked me 
 what I'd come for. 
 
 " Come on a visit," said I. 
 
 " And yer dog, is he a visitor too ? " 
 
 " Neither he nor I go where the other doesn't " 
 was the best way I could put it. Then I looked round 
 to see if dear auntie had any grub for me, and Tony 
 put on a sort of inquiring sniff too, all the time trying 
 to make friends with aunt. But she wasn't having 
 any. Later on she pulled out some bread and butter 
 
 9 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 and some pie and told me there were rats about the 
 house — ^that was for Tony's benefit. 
 
 She kept on putting questions, asking me this, that 
 and the other about my schooHng and what I was 
 going to do for a Hving, and I had to make the best 
 answers I could. 
 
 Then she began to ask whether I was going to stay 
 the night and I repeated that I had " come on a visit." 
 I soon began to feel that we were outstaying 
 a welcome and after two days my aunt was glad to 
 turn me and my dog out : we had outstayed our 
 welcome. She was a good churchwoman and never 
 could hold with my not being the same as all the 
 other folk she knew. Her husband worked on the 
 Pennsylvania Railway and I got no sympathy from 
 him either. Tony and I camped out for a night or 
 two, then I went back home and my adopted mother 
 (Mrs Blauser — Aunt Lib) asked me, without letting 
 me in at the front door, whether I had come for my 
 trunk. Never having had either a trunk or enough 
 clothes to fill even a small bag I could see that she was 
 " talking sarcastic " and I could see also that she 
 meant it. What was I to do ? 
 
 There was no question but that the situation spelt 
 w-o-R-K, or at all events earning enough to board me, 
 and buy myself a chew and tobacco for my pipe — for I 
 had begun early at the habit which led to sixteen or 
 more coronas a day. Don't forget I was only thirteen 
 years old. 
 
 I went to work at the gas and oil wells, and Mr 
 James Neil took me in. Neil was a foreman master 
 driller and I soon picked up enough knowledge 
 of the engine- work. Two serious explosions in which 
 I nearly lost my life made me get a bit '\fache " with 
 the oil-well graft, and when the No. 4 well drill 
 
 lO 
 
< > 
 
 n 5 
 
 5 -'^ 
 
JOINING A STABLE 
 
 was finished, and Neil got ready to go back to his home 
 in Pittsburg, I looked out for another job too. It was 
 time : I had been two weeks in linseed oil and lime 
 water after one of the terrible bums from the ex- 
 plosion : it seemed to shrivel me even smaller than 
 I was before. 
 
 I knew Callaway who kept a livery stable in Kokomo 
 — ^the same town, my native place — so I went round to 
 him. He put me up and I was handy boy about the 
 yard, doing this, that and the other, sort of general 
 utility turn. But I was so small for the work, and 
 although I was willing enough they were always 
 telling me about my helplessness. Two months 
 therefore saw the end of that. 
 
 Down on my luck again, I went on to my real 
 father's place in Marion, also in Indiana, but I could 
 see that there was not enough to support me about the 
 house : they were too poor. However, work turned 
 up in a carriage factory. But it was the same old 
 cry — " too small," and I had to beat it from there. 
 They said I was too light for the work : I only weighed 
 fifty pounds. I was an apprentice without pay so 
 there wasn't much lost ; naturally I couldn't help 
 support the family. 
 
 Then a job turned up in a drinking saloon. I had 
 to sweep up, attend to the glasses, close the shutters 
 and all the time pick up swear words from the 
 customers. I was a useful boy at light jobs but was 
 told after a bit that I was not heavy enough for the 
 sweeping ! It was a bit of a knock-out — for I used to 
 put in a lot of elbow and wrist work for what my 
 back couldn't do ; in fact I reckoned myself quite 
 an artist with the broom. Still there was nothing else 
 for it but to up and away and get back to Kokomo. 
 I thought I had a better chance there. 
 
 II 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 Things went on until there was a very important 
 period of boyhood. There was a " Professor " A. L. 
 Talbot, a sort of aeronaut who went about the country 
 going up in his balloon and with all sorts of side 
 shows, including ringing the sticks and pocket knives. 
 He had booths for various things. He had one big 
 balloon on a dray drawn by a team of horses which I 
 always used to admire when they came into " Doc " 
 Callaway's yard. 
 
 " Professor " Talbot saw more in me than others 
 had done. We had struck up an acquaintance some 
 time previously, and this time I went along with him. 
 We travelled around and made our own balloons, and 
 when the game got slack we had to hustle and earn 
 our board by making toy balloons for kids. It was 
 my business to go round and peddle them. I tell you 
 I was some salesman, and often think I could have 
 managed a department store if father had taken me 
 by the back of the neck and forced me into business. 
 
 I shall never forget the first place we struck — 
 Legrange, Indiana. I was a mite walking beside the 
 hefty fellow that the " Professor " was, and a boy sang 
 out : " Hallo, Talbot, where did you get this one ? " 
 Certainly I must have looked a bit comic carrying a 
 big chunk of meat while Talbot had an armful of 
 bread. 
 
 The "Professor" shouted back, "Don't you ask 
 sassy questions ; he can lick you anyway," and then he 
 looked towards me. But I didn't want to fight and 
 I was making myself look smaller than ever, when 
 Talbot said, " Look here, you, if you don't lick him I'll 
 lick you." So there I was on a hiding to nothing 
 anyway. Well, I sized up the other chap and saw he 
 wasn't much bigger than me. I went for him sharp 
 and, having been a bit of a wrestler among the boys 
 
 12 
 
FINDING THE PEA 
 
 at home, managed to throw him, but he wouldn't 
 let me hit him, rolling over on his face just by a big 
 cedar-tree. I tried to get a fist round by his ears, 
 but he dodged me, and all I could do was to rub his 
 face against the cedar-tree singing out, "You won't 
 be so fresh after this." Really I don't believe that I 
 had much of a temper before that day but that scrap 
 developed it — or rather started it. 
 
 We were quite a happy family with Talbot. We 
 used the horses for riding half-mile races against other 
 horses at the Fair. Talbot used to be the jockey, and 
 afterwards he would ride in circus dress two of them 
 barebacked. He gave capital exhibitions of riding 
 and was a good all-round showman. I never knew 
 where he came from but I should say at some time 
 or other he had been a clown in a circus. He would 
 fight on the slightest provocation and would some- 
 times suggest by the look of his face that he had been 
 through a pretty rough gruelling the night before. 
 But he wouldn't talk much about all this. It wasn't 
 that he used to get drunk and fly into a brawl at a 
 saloon, but would scrap for the love of it. One day I 
 remember at a country fair he sent me down from the 
 ticket office with a dollar to get small change. I was 
 passing one of the stalls where they were doing the 
 three shell and pea trick. I watched for about ten 
 minutes and at first they took very little notice of the 
 small kid. At last I couldn't stand the temptation 
 any more and I called out, " I'll bet you a dollar that 
 I know where the pea is." 
 
 The grafter answered, " I can't bet with you, you're 
 too young and small, but this gentleman can, if you 
 like to give him the dollar." 
 
 Of course the " gentleman " was the booster or 
 buttoner — ^as the tout for the three-card game is 
 
 13 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 called in England. Well you can guess what followed ; 
 " I pointed to the shell and the pea wasn't there. I 
 went away whistling, walked about for a time and then 
 back to our show. Talbot didn't say anything at 
 first ; he didn't remember where I'd been, but at last 
 he sung out to me : " Where's that dollar I give you 
 to get change ? " 
 
 " I've lost it." 
 
 " Wliat do you mean — ^lost it ? How could you do 
 that ? " 
 
 " Well not in the way you think : it didn't hop out 
 of my pocket." And then I plucked up courage and 
 told him all about it. 
 
 Talbot put on his hat and ordered me to follow him. 
 He walked straight over to the shell game, keeping his 
 temper until he said, "You had a bet with this kid 
 here and he lost a dollar." 
 
 The man started to deny it, swearing that he had 
 only had one bet that morning and that was with a 
 gentleman who put a dollar on, but Talbot stuck at it 
 and there was a dangerous look in his eye until the 
 man forked up the money. Then he let his fury go. 
 He smashed up the shells, kicked the bench into 
 pieces, shook the guy by the collar, gave him an open 
 hander and a parting kick as he was running away, 
 and added certain injunctions in certain language to 
 the effect that he would do quite a number of things 
 if he saw him at those tricks again. As a matter of 
 fact we never did see him again. 
 
 Of course Talbot's balloons were not filled with 
 gas. He couldn't always get it for one thing, and 
 anyhow it cost too much. They were inflated in the 
 old original way that Mongolfier discovered — with 
 hot air. Talbot was good enough to tell me that I 
 was the best filler he had ever seen. I was very 
 
 14 
 
THE PARACHUTE 
 
 handy with the pine logs and oil barrel staves that we 
 had to use in order to get enough hot vapour. One 
 day he was going to make an ascent when a bit of 
 the balloon showed signs of fire. I could see it was 
 smouldering and I sang out to everybody not to let 
 it go. But Talbot was already on the trapeze ready 
 to ascend— he used to do all sorts of monkey tricks 
 in the air on that same swinging bar. 
 
 I cried out to him, "Don't go; the balloon's on 
 fire," but he didn't hear and shouted still louder to the 
 men to let go. Just as he started the flames burst 
 out. With the extra heat he went up all the quicker 
 of course, and we could only wonder how soon he 
 would come down. I never thought I should see him 
 ahve agam. \Vlien he got up about fifteen hundred 
 feet the thing was all afire and collapsed, and he came 
 down very swiftly in a field about a hundred and fifty 
 yards away— not exactly with a crash but at a pace 
 at which it might be thought no man could be alive 
 to remember the tale. But he wasn't dead! He 
 was only knocked out. He soon showed signs of life. 
 The scrap of the balloon which was left had broken the 
 fall somewhat. We took him round to the dmg store 
 and gave him some brandy. He got up abc at an 
 hour after and went to a dance. By the way, this all 
 occurred at Cullum, Indiana. 
 
 My first experience at building a real new balloon 
 was at Washington, Indiana. I liked the job better 
 than anything I had done, and soon got expert at it 
 It was after this that Talbot signed a contract to give 
 an ascent and got an extra twenty-five dollars for 
 domg a parachute act in connection with it— neither 
 Talbot nor I had ever seen a parachute, and he told 
 me so, but we got a picture and started in making one. 
 Tlien he told me that he had promised the public a 
 
 15 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 surprise— to slip his boy out of the balloon. He 
 sprung it on me one morning. 
 
 My first ascent was to be at Boonesville Fair, ihe 
 Professor had promised the people who ran the show 
 a surprise. As a matter of fact he had contracted 
 for an extra twenty-five dollars to " slip his boy 
 out of the balloon in a parachute ! He sprung it on 
 me one morning. 
 
 I asked: " Who's the boy ? " 
 
 He said : " You are ' the boy ' ! " 
 
 I answered : " Oh, am I ! " 
 
 But he saw my face. 
 
 " You don't seem to like it, Tod," he said. 
 
 " It's all right," I answered. " But what sort of 
 thing is the parachute, the umbrella thing I am to 
 come down in ? Shall I be heavy enough to make it 
 
 open out ? " , ^ n • 4. 
 
 " Oh you'll be all right," said the Professor, just 
 as if he' were saying " Pass the butter," but I began 
 thinking it over, and the more I looked up at the sky 
 and began to think of having to slip down from the 
 clouds the less I liked it. I began to think how 1 
 could dodge it. My brother " Cash " had left home 
 some time before, after a scrap with father. Cash ran 
 down the railway track faster than the old man, and 
 when he stopped it was with a stable of horses. 
 
 I had heard from Cash that he was overseer and head 
 iockey of a stable, and he said that if I wanted to join 
 him and become a rider I was to leave Washington, 
 
 Indiana, at once. i . t 
 
 Well I had to cough a bit and think over what 1 
 should say before I told the Professor, but he was very 
 sporting about it; and, as it meant only twenty-five 
 dollars' difference in the pay for the show, he said : 
 " Perhaps you're right ; go and join your brother. 
 
 i6 
 
A DOG FOR A QUARTER 
 
 And so we parted, and with my " trunk '*— about a 
 foot square, easy to carry under one arm and con- 
 taining a shirt-waist and a pair of stockings, not 
 more, for I was just a kid in knickers— I went off on 
 the railroad train. 
 
 I came upon the " stable car," and Cash, midway 
 between Washington and St Louis. I saw a little 
 fellow ahead of me hiking a mile down a railroad track 
 as hot as a furnace carrying a pail of water in each hand. 
 He had a long peaked trotting driver's cap, and looked 
 the funniest guy I'd ever seen. I walked up behind 
 him to see who he was, and I heard him whistling— 
 and then, of course, I knew it was Cash. 
 
 We embraced like brothers should ; I was glad to 
 see him and he me. We sat down by the track and 
 talked things out. We had plenty of hope— but I 
 couldn't focus that talk quite properly through looking 
 at that darned cap of Cash's. I burnt it one 
 morning. 
 
 It was here I got hold of another dog. I whistled 
 to him, and was going to steal him, for I'd taken a 
 fancy to him, but the owner came out, and as I had 
 actually got hold of the animal's head there was only 
 one thing to say: 
 
 " Do you want to sell this dog, boss ? " 
 
 He stuck out for half-a-dollar, but I whistled him 
 into taking a quarter. And I had a new companion. 
 
 I hadn't by any means got over my fear of horses, 
 but Cash put me at odd jobs, and when we got to St 
 Louis he made me ride a little, and gradually I got used 
 to it. The stable belonged to Tracy and Levy, and 
 they had two horses called Surprise and Biddy Bowl- 
 ing. It was a pretty easy job to start with, and all 
 I had to do was to lead one of them round after he had 
 done a gallop until he stopped sweating. Then Cash 
 
 B 17 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 taught me the art of rubbing a horse's legs, and gener- 
 ally " doing " him ; but how tired I got ! I don't 
 think that ever in my life I really knew what weariness 
 spelt until then. I would hunch myself in a corner 
 with every limb aching. I suppose I got a few muscles 
 to work which had never been asked to come forward 
 and do their bit before. Then they told me that I 
 should have a little bit of exercise jobs, " riding work," 
 as they say in England. It was at Kansas City, 
 and, my ! how cold it was. I felt frozen, for recol- 
 lect that I was only thirteen and weighed four stone. 
 
 " Up you get on Biddy Bowling and let her walk 
 round the track," someone said, showing me a horse 
 rather like the grey that had given me such a 
 fright. Biddy took a peek at me, and I often 
 wondered what she was thinking of when " Shrimp " 
 Sloan was on her back. At all events she must 
 have thought there was an insect worrying her. 
 She made two or three little Wild West movements, 
 and after I had picked myself up and rubbed the 
 bruises I walked back to the stable. She got there 
 long before I did ! 
 
 I still hated the whole business, but, as I had gotten 
 into it, I didn't care to slouch off. In any case, to my 
 reasoning little mind, it seemed better than being jerked 
 out of a balloon, for sometimes when I'd eaten too 
 much supper I would dream that I was dropping down 
 from the sky with the parachute just out of clutching 
 distance. 
 
 I had a chance to go into the stable of Colonel 
 Charlie Johnson, who owned a horse named Jim 
 Douglas. My first ride in public was on this horse, 
 at Pueblo Colorado. All I had to do was to walk 
 around the ring. Now, Jim stood well over seventeen 
 hands, and was a pretty mean horse, I can tell you. 
 
 i8 
 
BECOME A COOK 
 
 When they hoisted me up he began to walk, then he 
 trotted, and then he broke into a canter. I yelled 
 my loudest for help and lay back tugging with my small 
 arms at the bridle reins. Some of the stable boys came 
 running after me, but Jim must have thought that they 
 were other horses, for he stretched himself out and did 
 a furlong inside thirteen seconds. He swung along 
 until he came to a mud bank, where he shot me off, 
 and then turned round and allowed himself to be led 
 quietly back. We all know that dogs can smile and 
 that tears come into their eyes. I am not sure to this 
 day whether Jim was laughing at me or whether he 
 pitied me. In any case there was no half-and-half idea 
 about what they thought in the stable-yard. One 
 thing was quite certain : I should never make a jockey. 
 They told me so, and I agreed that it wasn't my work ; 
 but I was a handy boy, and, instead of getting rid of 
 me, they put me on to cook. I could hardly reach the 
 top of the stove, but the coffee I made was all right, and 
 I got fine and dandy at frying bacon and cooking eggs 
 for the bunch. I remember that I tried my hand at a 
 few other things, but generally had to smuggle the 
 result away to a corner and eat it up myself, until one 
 day I found I could make hot biscuit^— like your 
 Scotch scones or small soda cakes, but hot. They 
 were some success, and the neighbours would send the 
 ingredients from miles round for me to make them. 
 So we muddled along. I was always thinking that 
 something would turn up, for, although cooking can 
 be a fine art, I was not actually qualifying for a chef. 
 Now at that time I was quite sure that I should never 
 be a jockey, but all the same I would sometimes sit 
 down and ask myself how it was that I was frightened 
 of a horse when I was not scared at other things. But 
 the talk with myself generally left off where it began. 
 
 19 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 I didn't get rid of the idea at the back of my mind that 
 I would hke to learn to ride. I kept on figuring to 
 myself that I ought to be able to do as well as the next 
 fellow, but somehow it all left me in a bit of a whirl. 
 Yet I was always coming back to the subject. My 
 brother Cash lost his job with Johnson, and in the 
 spring we went to Denver, and he got a position with a 
 big fellow, named Hank Combs. Then the desire to 
 ride again came back to me. But it took me longer to 
 learn than anyone I ever heard of. I did have another 
 chance of showing what I could do in this stable ; but 
 it was the same old story. They found a little chestnut 
 colt for me to exercise, but he threw up his tail and ran 
 away with me into the woods, getting rid of me against 
 a tree. I nearly broke my neck ! I didn't remember 
 anything until I found myself lying in one of the 
 attendants' cots. My Denver debut had thus ended m 
 disaster, and I wanted to clear out ; but how to get 
 away presented certain difficulties. We had nothmg 
 except a little handbag each. Luckily Cash, thinkmg 
 he was going to be a jockey, had bought about forty 
 dollars' worth of saddlery, caps, etc., and had paid for 
 them. They were coming west to him through the 
 American Express, and by showing the receipt and the 
 way-bill to a fellow in the town he got ten dollars. 
 They didn't put up the bar against youngsters gomg 
 into pool-rooms and gambling saloons in Denver m 
 those days, and with two dollars of the ten I went mto 
 one of them and began to win. I ran the two dollars 
 into fifty. \Vliat would have happened next I don't 
 know, but Cash suddenly came to me saying : "For 
 God's sake, give it up ; I've lost all my eight dollars, 
 and we shall have to walk if we lose what you've got 
 there." I had a little sense— and we cleared out. 
 I then found my way to Kansas City and began to 
 
 20 
 
THE BAY DISTRICT TRACK 
 
 work for the trainer Johnny Campbell, whom many may 
 
 have met in Europe. Campbell had a sort of idea that 
 
 I was going to be a success. At all events he expected 
 
 a great deal more from me that I did from myself. 
 
 He had what he thought a promising colt named 
 
 Viking. I fear I may have ruined the animal, for 
 
 directly I got on his back he cleared out with me and 
 
 ran three miles and a half before he stopped. Well, 
 
 I ask you— he was only a two-year-old, and a gallop 
 
 like that was liable to spoil any young animal's career. 
 
 Johnny Campbell was furious, in fact the maddest man 
 
 I ever saw in my life. They advised me to keep out 
 
 of his way, and I was wise to the fact that he'd choke 
 
 me if he caught me. But I owe a good deal to him, 
 
 and he was really a kindly soul. Once more I had to 
 
 have little words with myself and wonder whether it 
 
 was all worth going on with. 
 
 I suppose I screwed up a little more courage gradu- 
 ally. At all events, I wasn't thrown quite so often in 
 the next few gallops I had. At last I actually got a 
 mount in a race— at New Orleans, on Lovelace, for the 
 Beverwyck stable, and I finished third. I rode in 
 four other races at the same meeting, but didn't win 
 any. I hated myself, for I didn't seem to improve at 
 all. I may as well be frank about it : the truth is that 
 I was so bad until 1893 that I was a byword among 
 trainers. They used to say that if a man didn't want 
 his horse to win he needn't have him pulled. AH 
 that he had to do was to send for Sloan. His riding 
 would be handicap enough. Of course, I heard about 
 It all, and it didn't upset me as much as it might have 
 done, for I knew I couldn't ride. 
 
 One little sentence however kept mysteriously ring- 
 ing in my ears : " You may be able to ride some day:' 
 Still, this was poor consolation, and as I was a thinking 
 
 21 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 sort of kid it hurt me some when the papers made fun 
 of me. I should hke to have had a go for two or three 
 of those newspaper men, but I bided my time, without 
 much hope, however. I just kept my tongue between 
 my teeth and didn't talk so much then as I do now. 
 But those papers ! \Vlien " By " Holly signed me on 
 at the Bay District Track at San Francisco one race 
 writer said that Holly must have engaged me because 
 of the loud clothes I used to wear instead of for any 
 merit I had as a rider. 
 
 It was the same old story. I tried and tried and 
 seemed to get worse. I was growing older too— al- 
 though I never grew up— and I really began to wonder 
 whether it was worth going on with, and in 1894 I 
 decided it wasn't. In thinking about what I should 
 do after determining to give up riding for ever, I made 
 up my mind that I'd go on the stage. I looked about 
 and actually had something in view. At that time, 
 however, I had an unknov/n friend who took a good 
 deal of interest in me. I found out about it afterwards. 
 It was he who told me to stop all the nonsense about 
 the stage and to go on trying to be a jockey. I shall 
 always be grateful to him. Charlie Hanlon and George 
 Rose really shaped my career. Hanlon made me 
 study horses, and I began to stand better with myself 
 and not to wake up in the middle of the night ^and 
 think I was already a hopeless failure. It wasn't in 
 the stableyard only and on the gallops that I tried to 
 find out all I could. As a matter of fact, I discovered 
 the " monkey-on-the-stick seat " quite by accident at 
 the Bay District Track. 
 
 One day, when I and Hughie Penny, who was then 
 a successful jockey, were galloping our horses to the 
 post, my horse started to bolt, and in trying to pull him 
 up I got up out of the saddle and on to his neck. 
 
 22 
 
Mr. Charles F. Hanlon 
 
FINDING OUT THINGS 
 
 Penny started laughing at the figure I cut, and I 
 laughed louder than he, but I couldn't help noticing 
 that, when I was doing that neck crouch, the horse's 
 stride seemed to be freer, and that it was easier for me 
 too. Before that I had seen a jockey, named Harry 
 Griffin, riding with short stirrups and leaning over on 
 the horse. As he was the best jockey of the day I 
 put two and two together and thought there must be 
 something in it, and I began to think it out, trying all 
 sorts of experiments on horses at home. The " crouch 
 seat," the "monkey mount," or the thousand and 
 one other ways it has been described, was the result. 
 Then the time came when I determined to put it into 
 practice. But I couldn't screw up enough courage the 
 first time I had a chance. I kept putting it off. At 
 last, though, I did really spring it on them. Every- 
 body laughed. They thought I had turned comedian. 
 But I was too cocksure to be discouraged. I was 
 certain that I was on the right track. I persevered, 
 and at last / began to win races ! 
 
 In the whole of my experience I have found that 
 a boy with a nervous temperament makes the best 
 jockey. He is quick and alert to take in a situation, 
 and he becomes a human ferret, finding out things for 
 himself. The Tod Sloan of that day was a bundle of 
 nerves, and he discovered new things every day. I 
 will give you an instance. It was at the Ingleside track 
 at San Francisco that I learned that a horse runs 
 better when " pocketed." Of course it is rough on 
 the nerves of a rider, but the horse breathes in a space 
 where the air doesn't come to him in a rush, and all a 
 rider has to do is to watch his chance and slip through 
 when he thinks the time has come for the effort. He 
 will find his mount fresher and quicker to put it all in. 
 Another thing which I learned about the same time 
 
 23 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 was that, however tired a horse may be in a race, and 
 no matter how hard it may be for his rider to keep 
 his position, yet the horse will take on new energy if he 
 gets the chance to go through a gap between two other 
 horses or between a horse and the rails. I have studied 
 horses all my life since the time I have just spoken of, 
 and I am quite sure that it's a kind of compelling 
 instinct. 
 
 24 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 " MONKEY ON THE STICK " IN PRACTICE 
 
 Friendship with "Pittsburg Phil"— Cork Cutter to MilUonaire— 
 QuaUties which helped him to make Three Million Dollars- 
 American Tick-tacking— Determination to go East 
 
 After the successes spoken of at the end of 1894 I 
 fell sick in 1895, and Mr and Mrs Rose brought me back 
 to Indiana to recover. I had a long bad time of it, 
 but I got well enough to start riding again at the State 
 Fair at Sacramento and beat everything which was 
 fancied. Everything I touched, too, turned to gold ; 
 talk about "Get-Rich-Quick Walhngford"; he was 
 nothing to me, and I had chances of making money in 
 speculation right outside racing. 
 
 In the autumn of 1895 I went to San Francisco, and 
 it was there that I first met "Pittsburg Phil." A 
 straighter man never existed on the Turf. I have 
 mentioned that he began life as a cork cutter; his 
 real name was George E. Smith, and in his early days, 
 when putting in all he knew at his work, he could never 
 earn more than one dollar twenty-five cents — that 
 is, five shillings a day. " P. P." occupied a place 
 among racing notabilities that has never been filled, 
 and probably never will, and he made a vast fortune 
 despite the fact that he was never liked by the Jockey 
 Club members and was made to feel that he was not 
 desirable to them. He stuck it as long as he could, 
 despite all the terrible difficulties put in his way. The 
 Club's argument was that he was a bad example and 
 did harm to the standing of racing. Years after I 
 
 25 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 remembered all this. Things happened that were 
 kind of echoes ! 
 
 Now I was always a great friend of Phil. All the 
 same, in common with others, I took the same view as 
 the Jockey Club. There is not a man living, how- 
 ever, who could say that " Pittsburg Phil " was ever 
 guilty of a dishonest action. I was never tired of 
 studying him, and could find new points about him 
 to interest me every day. We would travel together 
 and stay ilogether, but I never knew of his bets, and 
 very few others did either. 
 
 It was rather curious, that autumn, that all the other 
 jockeys were up against me. It was all the better 
 for me, though, because they lost races through watch- 
 ing me too much and not attending to their own and 
 other horses. I had already heard that " Pittsburg 
 Phil " had been noting me, and had been backing 
 my mounts. Now, Sam Doggett was one of the 
 two jockeys riding for him. Evidently Phil wasn't 
 satisfied with him for some reason or other, for one 
 afternoon he asked me if I would ride his horse next 
 day. I did, and I won, and ever after that " Pittsburg 
 Phil " was my friend. It was a serious set-back for 
 Doggett though. ^ 
 
 I rode many other horses for Phil, and although 
 we lived together I never knew beforehand if he had 
 backed a horse I was to ride, or whether he had laid 
 against me. He would never tell, me nor any other 
 man, whether he had won or lost, and, as I have said, 
 he was altogether very much like Charles Hannam, 
 in England. He kept his own counsel. You could 
 never tell from his face or from his manner after a 
 race whether things had gone as he wanted them to. 
 He could read a race better than anyone I ever knew. 
 Many a time he would notice something about a horse 
 
 26 
 
'■ Pittsburg Phil" 
 
PITTSBURG PHIL 
 
 which finished down the course, and after the race 
 he would say quietly to me : "If you can get the 
 mount on that the next time he runs he'll win," and 
 I cannot call to mind any instance when he failed to be 
 a wonderful prophet. 
 
 It was absolutely wrong to believe one of the stories 
 — ^and there were thousands of them about — of his 
 " method." All those who spoke and wrote about him 
 said he betted entirely on information and could " fix " 
 races and riders — and trainers too. In fact, he was 
 said to have been a perfect bunch of tricks. But it 
 was all untrue. I was closer to him than any other 
 man. He would think and talk nothing but horse, 
 and no one knows better than I do that his success 
 was entirely due to his judgment and level-headed- 
 ness. He devoted all his hours to a study of racing, 
 didn't smoke and only drank a little white wine. 
 
 He had a memory too wliich was always an envy 
 to me ; in fact his mind was a film from which nothing 
 could be blotted out. He simply was his own handi- 
 capper, and it is all nonsense about his employing 
 an army of men to get news. The only people he 
 employed were those who did commissions for him. 
 
 We would sit down night after night and talk about 
 such a lot of things, and I enjoyed drawing him out 
 about his early days, and then he would get every- 
 thing out of me that I had to tell ; and he would 
 encourage me to go on and on. He had a quiet way 
 of convincing me, and somehow after a talk with him 
 I would go to bed happy, and dream that I was to go 
 east to New York. In those days that was as far as 
 my ambition reached. 
 
 Phil's own early story — I got it in snatches from him 
 — was that when he was following his humble employ- 
 ment he used to read the papers always, and saw a 
 
 27 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 picture one day of some horses, owned by the Brothers 
 Dwyer, which had won. There was a lot about them 
 that morning, and then the next day he saw that 
 another horse, owned by the same stable and ridden 
 by the same jockey, Jimmy McLaughlin, had won. 
 This gave him an interest in the subject and he would 
 never miss the racing news. He noted what owners 
 and jockeys were winning, and he determined finally 
 to have a try at betting himself and went to a pool- 
 room, which may be described, for those who don't 
 know, as an open betting " Club." 
 
 Well, Phil backed the Dwyer horses, and at the end 
 of the first week he had cleaned up over a hundred 
 dollars. After that, he told me, " I came to the con- 
 clusion that betting on the races was a hell of a game, 
 and a darn sight better than cutting corks, so I threw 
 up my job and told my mother I was going to follow 
 the races." 
 
 The way Phil got his nickname came about as 
 follows. In those days in America it wasn't usual 
 to give in betting more than just a short anything in 
 the way of identity, so he gave his name simply as 
 " Phil," and when he landed in New York with forty 
 dollars in his pocket, and went to the pool-rooms, the 
 name stuck to him ; on the race-tracks he was known 
 as " Phil from Pittsburg." He went right ahead, and 
 left over three million dollars when he died. For 
 fifteen years he was always plunging, and in his time 
 he pulled off the biggest strokes in the country, betting 
 as much sometimes as fifty thousand dollars on a race. 
 Bookmakers became afraid of him, and he had to be 
 a bit clever in the way of putting his money down. 
 One day out in California, when he wanted to make 
 a big bet on a certain horse, I saw him climb up behind 
 Johnny Coleman's book. " I want to bet a thousand 
 
 28 
 
CORK CUTTER TO MILLIONAIRE 
 
 on this one, Johnny," he said ; " so if you'll take it 
 I'll place it all with you instead of going round and 
 causing a panic." Coleman looked round, and seeing 
 better prices marked than he was giving didn't 
 hesitate to take Phil's thousand. Then he sent his 
 commissioners out to hedge it off, but beforehand 
 Phil had posted his men at other books and had 
 arranged the signal of raising his hat the minute he 
 got the money down with Coleman. Off went the hat, 
 and his men helped themselves, and when Coleman's 
 runners went to lay it off the odds had shortened very 
 much. They rushed back, and Coleman was hopping 
 mad, for he'd seen through the game right away. Of 
 course the horse won, and that day Phil cleaned up 
 about one hundred thousand dollars. 
 
 As I have said, Phil would never tell anyone — not 
 even me— what he was going to do. An instance of 
 this, and of how he could hug his judgment to him- 
 self, was when we went to see the Fitzsimmons-Corbett 
 fight at Carson City. We went on a special train, and 
 I had no idea what he was going to do until we were 
 at the ring-side. Then he told me he was going to 
 back Fitz. I begged him not to, and the others 
 agreed with me, but he stuck to his opinion, and after 
 the men got in the ring and started fighting he took 
 all the money that was offered him— and there was 
 a lot of it, I can tell you. Johnny O'Neil bet him a 
 thousand dollars where I wouldn't have given him 
 five cents for his chance, and I told him so. I even 
 wanted to bet with him myself that Corbett would 
 win, but he wouldn't bet with me. I shall have a great 
 deal more to say about Corbett when I come to deal 
 with my friendship for him. In this fight it will be 
 recalled that Corbett took a strong lead in the early 
 rounds and drew a lot of blood from Fitz. In the 
 
 29 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 fourteenth round, after Corbett had landed a left- 
 hand hook on Bob's jaw, Fitz got his right in, and then 
 a little later Fitz gets in what was described by the 
 referee as a " sort of cross between a hook and an 
 upper-cut to a point nearer to the pit of the stomach 
 than under the heart." Jim's face was terrible with 
 the agony he was suffering : he was beaten. " Pitts- 
 burg Phil " won " enough. 
 
 5J 
 
 I could never get away from the idea that I ought 
 to go east. I had been doing so well where I was. 
 I would discuss it with Phil, and in after years it was 
 said that it was he who had brought me to New York. 
 As a matter of fact, in California, after I had ridden for 
 him, and he had said nice things about my bringing 
 him winners, he gave me strong advice not to go to 
 New York. 
 
 " It's a different game there, son," he said. " You 
 are known here, and you have confidence in yourself, 
 but you'll find it a cold proposition there." 
 
 " That's all right, Mr Smith," I told him ; " I have 
 made up my mind to go, and when they begin, and 
 the flag falls at Morris Park, you'll find me on deck." 
 
 And he did. 
 
 30 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 START IN NEW YORK 
 
 A Westerner Grafting— Meeting Jack MacDonald— A Three-handed 
 Match— " Mac's '-'- Suspicions— Getting Even— Days and Nights 
 with Mr Fleischman— Control of Stable 
 
 What was practically my permanent arrival in the 
 East brought no brass bands on the scene, and the 
 newspapers took no kind of notice of me. Although 
 I had been successful in other places they saw no 
 reason to believe in me. 
 
 To begin with I went out to live at the Woodman- 
 stone Inn in Westchester near the old Morris Park 
 track and hung about living quietly on the off- 
 chance of getting a mount ; but no one hurried 
 to offer me one. I was comfortable about money, 
 at all events, for a few months ahead. The people 
 in the neighbourhood gave me the cold shoulder. 
 They thought I was simply there hustling and trying 
 to get a chance ride. In fact one of them described 
 me as a "bum jockey from the West who was 
 grafting." 
 
 At that time there were six or seven hundred horses 
 being trained in the district and I would go out in the 
 morning and keep myself fit by riding some of them. 
 Nothing turned up for a time, but I gritted my teeth 
 and determined to get there. One day two odd rides 
 came my way. I knew nothing about either of them, 
 and didn't see the owners. The first was a horse named 
 Runaway. I won on him and then got up on the 
 second, a filly belonging to Mr MacDonald. She was 
 
 31 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 an outsider and I got her home comfortably. That 
 began a good season. 
 
 A day or two after I was going by train to West- 
 chester from New York. I was reading the paper 
 taking no notice of anyone when a man opposite me 
 leaned over and said : " How did that filly run with 
 you the day before yesterday ? " 
 
 Hardly looking up from my paper I cut him short 
 by answering : " All right I suppose," and went on 
 reading, intending to be silent if he put another 
 question. I had previous experience of being asked 
 things by strangers and I wouldn't have minded 
 showing a little bad manners if this stranger had 
 become too inquisitive. When I got out at West- 
 chester the stranger got out also. 
 
 " I want to speak to you," was the next thing I 
 heard. It was the stranger, who then took a roll of 
 hundred-dollar bills out of his pocket and slipped 
 three of them into my hand : " I'm Mr MacDonald : 
 that was my filly you rode." 
 
 I was taken aback of course and began to apologise 
 saying : " If I had known who you were of course I 
 wouldn't have been so rude." 
 
 In reply Mr MacDonald put his hand on my shoulder : 
 " I like you all the better for it, and you can ride for 
 me whenever you like." 
 
 That was the beginning of a long association, and I 
 think it was a regret to both of us when we fell out two 
 years later. It came about like this : There was a 
 three horse race at Sheepshead Bay. MacDonald had 
 a mare called, I believe. Intermission, and she had to 
 beat Hamilton and another named Clifford, a 100 to 1 
 on certainty. MacDonald thought he was sure to 
 be second with his. He got wind that " Pittsburg 
 Phil " was wagering heavily on Hamilton to beat his 
 
 32 
 
MACDONALD'S DISTRUST 
 
 mare for second place, but as I have already men- 
 tioned Phil never told me what he was doing, and I 
 had no more idea than the dead which he had backed. 
 As I learnt several days later his money, thousands 
 atter thousands of dollars, was piled on Hamilton to be 
 second. 
 
 Thinking that I knew all about it, MacDonald went 
 to the Stewards and asked permission to take me off 
 his mare and put up another jockey ; but he was told 
 that they saw no sufficient reason why they should, 
 but they would watch the race very closely and if 
 they saw anything peculiar they would be the first to 
 take action. He argued, but all his talk was no good ; 
 they had spoken the last word. Nothing was said 
 to me by ^" Mac " and I won the place for him. 
 
 " Mac " came to me directly after the race : " That's 
 all right, Tod ; you did ride a good race ! I thought 
 she'd beat Hamilton, but if it hadn't been for your 
 riding she wouldn't have done it." 
 
 Five days after two prominent owners went to my 
 principal employer, Mr Fleischman, and told him to 
 put me wise about what Jack MacDonald had done 
 adding that before Mac had gone to the Stewards he 
 had told one of them that it was quite certain that Tod 
 was not going to do his best. And all the time I had 
 It all dead set to beat Hamilton ! Mr Fleischman did 
 as was suggested, and as a consequence I went up to 
 Mac " on the race-track directly afterwards and asked 
 him why he did it, and he tried to explain to me that 
 the race had meant such a lot to him, and as " Pitts- 
 burg Phil " " your intimate friend " had put so much 
 money on Hamilton he was afraid it might be 
 a great temptation to me to do my pal a good 
 turn. ^ 
 
 I told him that I didn't want to know him again and 
 *^ 33 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 asked him not to speak to me and that in any circum- 
 stances I would not ride for him any more. 
 
 All the same I determined to get even with him m 
 some little way if it took me a year or two, and one day 
 I had my chance. I ran him up seventeen hundred 
 dollars over something he had won with m a selling 
 race He had a lot of niggers working for him, and one 
 of them who was standing by bleated : " Don't run 
 him up Tod," and Charles Quinn who was near said the 
 same thing. My answer was : " Wiy shouldn't I go 
 against that policeman : ' Mac ' would be a dead cop 
 if he had his club and star : he looks lonesome without 
 
 a uniform." ^- n j 
 
 Of course " Mac " was wild, but I felt satisfied. 
 It was quite against the rules for a jockey to bid, but 
 
 the Stewards never called me up nor put a question 
 
 about it at all. i, 4. „^ 
 
 I never knew what Phil lost over Hamilton, but as 
 there were about two hundred bookmakers there that 
 day, and everyone went mad gambling, I should say 
 that it must have been a big order. However I can 
 remember many good things about MacDonald and 
 only tell what I have because many m America will 
 remember all about it. „ ^ j j 
 
 It was later in the season when I first met and rode 
 for Mr Charles Fleischman, a wealthy owner with a 
 very large string of horses in training. He secured 
 first call on me. His patronage to begin with and his 
 friendship and intimacy with me afterwards make one 
 of the happiest memories of my life. He was a man of 
 about sixty-six, owning a beautiful yacht, the ^fl- 
 watha. He had two sons, Julius and Max, who at that 
 time did not take any active part in racing. Mr 
 Fleischman would glory in sitting up half the mght 
 gambling. His peculiarity, or rather amusement, was 
 
SITTING UP ALL NIGHT 
 
 to be taken for a mug, and when he was gambling and 
 
 had perhaps won seven or eight thousand dollars he 
 
 would never stop playing until he had lost all he had 
 
 won, or had given it away. We used in those days to 
 
 play at Daly's gambling-house in 29th Street, New 
 
 York, and sometimes I would be three or four thousand 
 
 dollars to the bad, but it would never occur to him 
 
 that he should help me out at all, although he was 
 
 always most liberal in other things. Apart from a 
 
 personal regard for me— in fact, he treated me like his 
 
 own son— he liked me for sitting up all night with him 
 
 and not wanting to go to bed. Sometimes I would 
 
 go to the length of saying that he couldn't expect me 
 
 to do my best on his horses the next day, but he would 
 
 answer that it didn't matter a bit. We would drive 
 
 down at three or four o'clock in the morning to the 
 
 bay in a buggy or waggon, and go aboard the Hiawatha 
 
 for three hours' sleep. 
 
 In that first season I was with him I found that 
 he had determined to quit racing before I joined him, 
 for he felt he wasn't getting a proper return for his 
 money. But all the time he was dead keen on the 
 game. He would talk it out with me all the time we 
 were together. I remember him as the dearest old 
 man and so amiable that my affection for him grew 
 every week. One day he told me that he would go on 
 for another season if I would sign on again as first 
 joc^cey for the stable and I agreed on certain con- 
 ditions. 
 
 " The conditions being money ? " he asked. 
 
 ^'^' No, it isn't that," I explained. 
 
 " Well let's deal with the money first : I'll give 
 you twelve thousand dollars retainer. Is that 
 enough ? " 
 
 "More than enough, Mr Fleischman j but my 
 
 35 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 conditions are that I have full control of the stable 
 and that a new trainer shall be brought m." 
 
 He agreed at once, and I engaged Tom Welch, a 
 real honest trainer of horses— now located m France— 
 and a number of new hands. Mr Fleischman had got 
 rid of his agent for the stable, and his nephew William 
 Fleischman came to me saying that I might suggest 
 him for the job and he got it. We had a splendid 
 start the next season, winning race after race, and 
 everything went as smoothly as could be wished. 
 Unhappily, however, the poor man didn't live to see 
 the big things we did with his horses. With his death 
 there was a doubt for a moment what would happen 
 with the stable, but luckily his sons decided to carry 
 
 it on. , ,, 1 . £ 
 
 At one time Mr Fleischman, and all the rest ot us, 
 
 thought that Max would turn out a regular " sport, 
 
 but he never carried out the promise. He took most 
 
 interest in the business and the yacht. 
 
 Old Mr Fleischman, apart from his gambling m the 
 Faro banks, would bet on every race of the day on the 
 course, and no matter what he was told would seldom 
 back another horse if I had a mount. I put it to him 
 that a man was liable to go broke doing that, but he 
 would never pay any attention. He would answer : 
 " Look at the fun I have had ! Never mmd : it i 
 have lost to-day, I'll bet like hell on you to-morrow. 
 I never went to see him at Cincinnati but I have been 
 to his country home in the Catskills. 
 
 When he came to New York for ten or twelve days 
 for the racing he would smoke a little and drmk a little 
 and would order a good dinner, but he would never 
 give the cook a chance ; he'd hurry over the mea too 
 much, looking again and again at his watch. All he 
 wanted was to get to the gambling-tables. Little 
 
 36 
 
MR FLEISCHMAN'S FORTUNE 
 
 did I think when I used to go to the grocery store 
 when a kid to buy a tin-foil packet of Fleischman's 
 Compressed Yeast that later on I should be riding 
 for him and be his intimate friend. His firm made 
 a deal of money out of the wastage from the manu- 
 facture of the yeast. Especially vinegar and alcohol, 
 I believe. I know the stable used to be able to 
 get a demijohn of the alcohol — ^two or three gallons — 
 the stuff they use on horses after gallops, for the 
 equivalent of a shilling. 
 
 In spite of his gambling Charles Fleischman left 
 between fifteen and twenty million dollars. 
 
 37 
 
CHAPTER V 
 w. c. Whitney's liberality 
 
 His First Good Horse— Heavy Bettor— A Wonderful Futurity— 
 Fourteen-Thousand-DoUar Present— Getting me out of a Bad 
 Deal— Cablegram from Lord WiUiam Beresford 
 
 I FIRST met Mr William C. Whitney at the time that 
 he had second call on me. It was in 1898. He had 
 first call on me the following year after my contract 
 with Fleischman and Featherstone. 
 
 W. C. Whitney will be remembered as having been 
 the most popular man in American racing. As far as 
 racing was concerned I want to say right here that he 
 knew very little about horses and he must have sunk 
 a stack of money in his racing ventures. He didn^t 
 become interested in the Turf until late in hfe, and his 
 career did not after all extend over so many years. 
 I have always said that to know horses intimately you 
 must be raised with them. Of course his son Harry 
 Payne Whitney has forgotten more than his father 
 ever knew, for he has been round among horses, hunt- 
 ing, driving, riding and racing, ever since he was a boy. 
 
 It was John E. Madden who was principally re- 
 sponsible for Mr Whitney going on the Turf. Madden 
 has bred and raced more good horses than any other 
 man in America excepting James R. Keene. Madden 
 saw to it that Mr Whitney started well. If I remember 
 correctly, Hamburg was the first big purchase Mr 
 Whitney made, and that was due to Madden, although 
 I can take some credit for it, for I told Mr Whitney 
 when he asked me that Hamburg was worth any 
 
 38 
 
PURCHASE OF MARTHA 
 
 price he would pay for him ; and, although it may- 
 sound funny to some people, I do not hesitate to say 
 that Hamburg, with the possible '.exception of Santoi, 
 was the only great race -horse I ever rode. He was one 
 of the sweetest-dispositioned horses that ever raced. 
 You could place him anywhere you liked and he would 
 always do his best. He loved to race, as every good 
 thoroughbred does, and you never saw such a beggar 
 to do his level best under all conditions, and he had 
 none of that devil you meet with in some of the greatest. 
 I was never beaten on him. 
 
 When he had been on the Turf a little while Mr 
 Whitney, although he loved the sport for its own sake 
 as much as any man I have ever knoAvn, began to 
 bet very heavily. He liked to win, and would say so, 
 but he never talked of winnings or losses, and not a 
 soul could tell how he stood after a race. 
 
 Another purchase I advised Mr Whitney about, and 
 one that made a bit of history, was a little mare named 
 Martha. He would pay any price for a horse that I 
 said was worth while, and I had told him at Saratoga 
 that Martha was sure to win back her purchase money, 
 and he answered : " All right ; go ahead and buy her." 
 I did, and she more than won herself out. The sequel 
 of it may as well be told here. Martha turned out 
 to be one of the best brood mares in America. Two 
 or three years afterwards I had been riding in 
 Liverpool — in England of course — and on returning 
 to London I found a message telling me to call on 
 Mr Wliitney at the Bristol. I had just ridden a mare 
 called Maluma in the Liverpool Cup, and got the only 
 real bad fall of my life. My right ear was almost torn 
 off and my face so scratched and cut that it looked 
 as if someone had used a currycomb on it. A great 
 surgeon at Liverpool, Sir Tut well Thomas, had sewn 
 
 39 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 my ear on again, and I appeared before Mr WTiitney 
 with my head in bandages and one eye closed. He 
 looked at me for a minute and then laughed and said : 
 " Well, how does the other fellow look ? " 
 
 It appeared that he had sent for me to ask if I would 
 like to go to America to ride his horse in the Futurity, 
 the richest race in America, but seeing me in such bad 
 shape he said he supposed there could be no chance 
 of my caring for such a journey. 
 
 " Never mind about the chance," I answered. " I'll 
 go all right and I shall be able to ride." 
 
 He persisted in saying that he didn't think I would 
 be able to manage it, especially as the Futurity was 
 only about two weeks off, but he gave me five thousand 
 dollars for my expenses and I went aboard ship. 
 
 Well, I rode his colt Ballyhoo Bey and won the 
 Futurity. It was a great regret to me that Mr Whitney 
 was on the ocean at the time and didn't see the race. 
 Then I rode the same colt in the Flatbush a week later 
 and won again. It was not until after that that I 
 heard that Martha, the little mare I had bought for 
 him at Saratoga, was the dam of Ballyhoo Bey. Speak- 
 ing of that same Flatbush it was about the funniest 
 race I ever rode in or heard of. Some of the other 
 jockeys had framed it to " do me up." I had more 
 than an inkling of it myself already and Winnie 
 O'Connor, who did not have a mount in the race, came 
 to warn me. " These boys think you are a butt-in, 
 Tod," he said ; *' and they are going to try and fix 
 you ; be on your guard." I told him I could take care 
 of myself and when we went to the post I asked the 
 starter Christopher Fitzgerald about it. 
 
 " I have heard a rumour of some such thing," he 
 said. Then he made a little speech to the jockeys : 
 " If I see the slightest thing out of the way here I'll 
 
 40 
 
BANK ROLL AND WATCH 
 
 report the matter to the Stewards and I tell you it will 
 go hard with the boys who are guilty." The start was 
 good, and I dropped in behind two other horses, with 
 Spencer on Tommy Atkins just a little behind me. 
 I stayed in the " pocket " taking my time, and I saw 
 through the trick by the way the two in front kept 
 looking back at me. On we went, and just before we 
 crossed the main track I moved up as if I wanted to 
 go through. They parted immediately, but instead of 
 going into the opening I pulled out to the right and 
 dashed ahead. Spencer fell into the trap laid for me : 
 he tried to dash through the gap and the two riders 
 in front closing in on him Tommy Atkins went dowTi 
 on his knees with his nose to the ground and I was 
 away off in front. Tommy Atkins was the best horse 
 in the race and should have won without an effort, for 
 although he lost twenty-five lengths by that stumble 
 I only beat him a head. When he got home after that 
 race Mr ^Vhitney was one of the most delighted men I 
 ever saw. He and I walked around the lawn behind 
 the club-house and he made me sit down with him on a 
 bench. 
 
 " I haven't given you anything for winning the 
 Futurity," he said, " except that five thousand dollars 
 you had in London for travelling expenses. See, I'll 
 give you all I have in my pocket," and he pulled out 
 a roll of notes and handed nine thousand dollars to 
 me and then, after a pause, he took out his watch and 
 gave me that too. " Now you have all I've got," he 
 added, and shook my hand. What a man ! 
 
 Mr Whitney was the most even-tempered I have 
 ever known, and he had keen judgment. No wonder 
 we all liked to serve him well. While he was the soul 
 of geniality he was no " handshaker," and everyone 
 who had dealings with him knew that he wasn't to 
 
 41 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 be " buncoed." I have spoken of his great generosity 
 and one instance of it was when one day I went to his 
 house on Fifth Avenue. After a Httle casual talk and 
 looking round at his pictures and furniture I told him 
 I was in a hole : " I have been gambling in stocks and 
 I'm in bad." A man had told Ned Gilmore, Charlie 
 Hoyt and me in the Fifth Avenue Hotel that sugar 
 would go to a certain point. I had taken the tip and 
 as a result I was pretty nearly fifty thousand dollars 
 to the bad. 
 
 " I didn't know you gambled in stocks, Sloan," Mr 
 Whitney answered ; " and I am sorry to hear of it 
 now. That is a game you should keep away from. 
 You mustn't expect me to approve of it ; stick to your 
 own business." Just as I was going away he added : 
 " I don't see how I can help you, but if you buy about 
 five thousand shares of American Tobacco and go to 
 sleep on the deal until there is a ten points' rise I think 
 you may pull out all right, but, mind you, I guarantee 
 nothing. Cut it all out is my advice to you." 
 
 I bought the Tobacco stock, leaving a limit of ten 
 points, and went to California. And then one day 
 when I was standing in a duck marsh during a day's 
 shooting I was handed a telegram telling me I had 
 made a hundred and ten thousand dollars. My luck 
 was talked about and much exaggerated at the time. 
 I was reported to have cleaned up half-a-million dollars 
 but the figure I give is exact. 
 
 Although he became so keen on racing Mr Whitney 
 never came out to the stables in the early morning at 
 the hour when Mr Keene and other big owners we all 
 know like to see the horses gallop, but he loved to be 
 around horses, and would drive over in the afternoon 
 and loaf about looking over the boxes and chatting 
 with the stable-boys. Every one of them would have 
 
 42 
 
INVITATION TO ENGLAND 
 
 done anything for him. I think his favourite track 
 was Saratoga and quite early in his racing days he 
 determined to build it up. He often told me he 
 intended to make a Newmarket of it and it was mainly 
 due to him that it became so successful. He built 
 up the Turf after his experiences in England ; he was 
 always talking of the English ways of doing things. 
 
 The whole story about my first experiences in 
 England will be told later, but in 1897, before going 
 away from Liverpool, Lord William Beresford said he 
 wanted me to come over for the autumn of 1898. I 
 answered : "If you want me to come, cable to Mr 
 Whitney." They did not know each other. The 
 result was that one day at Saratoga, in 1898, Mr 
 Wliitney sent for me : " Sloan, I have just received 
 a letter from Lord William Beresford asking me if 
 I can let you go to England." He read me a sentence : 
 " ' The opportunity looks big for Sloan to come : we 
 have some good horses.' " 
 
 Now I was carrying a cable from Lord William in 
 my pocket but I had felt backward about asking Mr 
 Whitney to release me and I told him so. " Well," he 
 replied, " Lord William is a fine fellow, and I would 
 like to oblige him, so if you want to go we will try and 
 get along without you. Stay for the Futurity and 
 after that you can go if you are still of the same mind 
 — ^that is, of course, if Mr Julius Fleischman gives 
 permission." 
 
 I thanked him and he wished me good luck, saying 
 he might go to England himself. And he did, and I 
 introduced Lord William and Mr Whitney to each 
 other at Newmarket. He bought out Pierre Lorillard's 
 interest in the stable and he and Lord William went 
 into partnership and I rode for them. I am always 
 thinking of him, and everyone knows what racing lost 
 
 43 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 in America when he died. Racing might not have had 
 the set-back which it did had he Hved. 
 
 While I have said that Mr Wliitney was fond of 
 betting I must add he was one of those men hke the 
 late King Edward, Lord Dunraven, and others, who 
 would rather any horse of theirs won a race purely for 
 the pleasure of beating the other horses than win 
 thousands simply by betting. I believe that Mr 
 Wliitney would have tried if necessary to keep racing 
 going without a single wager on a single track. But 
 of course it is difficult to imagine that racing could 
 go on without betting. 
 
 44 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 FIRST TRIP TO ENGLAND 
 
 Misery in London — Cold Shoulder at Newmarket — My First Gallop — 
 Preparing St Cloud II. — Covering Fifteen Miles — First Appearance 
 on a Course — Beating the Gate — Losing yet winning the Cambridge- 
 shire — Lord William's Kindness — A Week of Successes 
 
 Later on there will be scores of characters I have met 
 and horses I have ridden to talk about, but as I finished 
 up my last chapter by writing about my English career 
 it might perhaps be a good thing to tell here how I 
 made my first start for London and my innings as a 
 jockey in England and France from 1897 to 1900. 
 
 In the summer of 1897 Mr James R. Keene sent for 
 me to his down-town office in New York. " Sloan," 
 he said, " I've got a horse, St Cloud II., in the Cesare- 
 witch and the Cambridgeshire. My trainer, Pincus, 
 thinks he has a good chance. I have been thinking 
 over the advantage of getting you to ride him. Would 
 you like to go over to England ? " 
 
 It didn't take me long to answer : "I certainly 
 would." 
 
 " How soon could you go ? " 
 
 " To-morrow." 
 
 " Well I don't want you to decide so quickly." 
 
 However, the matter was settled then and there, 
 and I sailed on the following Wednesday, 17th 
 September, on the Majestic^ and landed in England 
 with Ed. Gaines, the walking man, whom I took with 
 me. There was no one to meet me, and feeling as 
 lonely and out of the swim as a fish on land I went 
 
 45 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 to the Savoy Hotel. I knew absolutely no one, not 
 even Mr Keene's trainer, Jake Pincus, who although 
 American had by long residence been turned into a 
 regular Britisher. Pincus of course was the man 
 who trained Iroquois, the only American horse who 
 ever won an English Derby. He was at one time a 
 rider himself. 
 
 How well I remember roaming round that hotel ! 
 It all seemed so cheerless and I was so homesick that 
 I nearly cried. I felt better when I went and had 
 dinner at the old Simpson's Restaurant. It was the 
 food I think which made me feel a bit as if I was having 
 a home meal. In those days, especially when I was 
 working, I could have eaten a horse I had such an 
 appetite, and I didn't put on extra weight through it, 
 either. When the time came for going to bed every- 
 thing was so lonesome that I nearly found myself 
 looking at steamship time-tables. 
 
 However I had found out where Newmarket was 
 and how to get there and went there two days after 
 my arrival. On arrival the first thing I did was to go 
 straight to see Mr Pincus who lived in some rooms 
 over a public-house kept by Martin. He had heard 
 of my coming, but at the same time I can't say that 
 he was inclined to take any particular interest in me ; 
 in fact the name " Tod Sloan " spelt nothing to him. 
 We talked a bit and I found he had become more 
 English than American. They were going to gallop 
 St Cloud II. the next morning, he told me, and added 
 that I had better be out on the heath to meet the 
 horses. I told him that I thought it would be better 
 if I walked the horse out myself so as to warm him up 
 myself. 
 
 He took a good look at me and answered : " You 
 aren't used to Newmarket. There will be a lot of other 
 
 46 
 
GALLOPING ST CLOUD II. 
 
 horses about. The horse's usual lad had better be on 
 him until the time came for the gallop." 
 
 I could see that he didn't think much of me so I said 
 quietly : " If that's so then the boy had better ride him 
 in the gallop too." 
 
 He seemed a little annoyed but finished up the talk 
 by saying : " Just as you like. You had better be at 
 the stable at seven in the morning." 
 
 He was a great big devil, St Cloud IL, standing about 
 seventeen and a half hands, but he walked out all 
 right to the gallops. The boys were sniggering and 
 when we did a light canter they tried to guy me. The 
 horse went sweetly with me. Then the boys started 
 whispering. I heard one of them say : " Wait till he 
 comes the other way." Presently they put Quibble 
 to lead me a gallop, and St Cloud II. he seemed to like 
 me even better, for he stretched along and I found out 
 he was no end of a nice horse. That was all which 
 was done. 
 
 I hung about Newmarket making the acquaintance 
 of a few people at the Rutland, and got up on St Cloud 
 once or twice again. It was all very dull and no one 
 seemed to want to make friends with me. 
 
 The following week was the First October Meeting 
 and not a ride came my way. I went down to the post 
 on a pony I had got hold of and I watched the starts 
 and felt as if I could beat the best of them. At last I 
 had a mount or two on bad horses without any chance 
 at all. I shall never forget the way all those in the 
 ring and on the stands behaved to me the first time I 
 cantered out. It was my first appearance. They 
 had seen no one riding with what they called the 
 " Monkey-on -the-stick " seat and a big laugh went 
 up. It must have been mighty funny to them. I 
 know I didn't appreciate it myself. However I stuck 
 
 47 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 to my colours, although as I didn't win I began to 
 think that I might after all be wrong, and I even 
 commenced to ask myself whether the English sport- 
 ing writers weren't about right when they said that I 
 couldn't ride at all. Lord William Beresford spoke 
 to me kindly, however, and said I could ride, and he 
 let me know he believed in me. I dare say he realised 
 how much his words bucked me up and made me deter- 
 mined to show them a thing or two. The first race I 
 won was on the horse named Quibble. It was the first 
 time they ever tried the starting machine and one of 
 the people who were exploiting it got it into his head 
 that I was against it and had been doing all I could 
 to queer it. So I thought I would show him ! Now 
 I had had experience with the new invention in 
 America and as I say it was only an experiment on 
 the part of the Stewards. The other riders were 
 strange to it and while they were getting ready after 
 the barrier flew up I was 'way off and nearly quarter 
 finished before they started. I am afraid my win in 
 that race came very nearly finishing the chance of 
 the starting machine in England. I know that it was 
 not taken up until two years after. 
 
 Meanwhile I had been riding St Cloud in preparation 
 for the Cesare witch. A few days before the race came 
 his winding-up gallop ; it was out on the Limekilns. 
 Wliat with walking to the course, and trotting round, 
 we covered quite a lot of ground before being told to 
 canter for a distance which must have been over four 
 miles. By the way, these canters in England I found 
 out to be in many cases really half-speed gallops ! 
 The horse went well, and I thought on pulling up that 
 his work was surely finished for the morning, when 
 after about ten minutes Pincus said, " Now we're 
 going to gallop him." " Going to gallop him, Mr 
 
 48 
 
Lord Marcts Beresford ami Mr. Richard Marsh 
 
WHERE COMFREY FINISHED 
 
 Pincus ? Why, look what he's done already ! " I 
 felt like getting off, but thank goodness I didn't, for 
 if I had they would have put one of the lads up and the 
 horse would have been ruined. As it was I spared 
 him, although there was a horse to take him along and 
 another one to join in when half the distance had been 
 covered. With one thing and another he must have 
 covered 15 miles that morning and in my opinion 
 his chance for the Cesarewitch four days later was 
 ruined. I know that in that race he was the tiredest 
 horse you ever saw. It was a pity ! Luckily for the 
 horse he was eased up after the Cesarewitch until the 
 Cambridgeshire, a race I shall always think that I won. 
 In this second race my theory was that I was winning 
 all the time and that I led all the way. The big fellow 
 travelled with me as if he knew exactly what he had 
 to do. I saw one after the other drop out, and from 
 the Bushes home there were only three of us : I had 
 to watch Sandia, who I always kept almost clear of ; 
 Sir William Ingram's horse Comfrey was on the other 
 side of the course. I was confident that I had the 
 race in my pocket, but I kept the big horse going 
 nicely all the same, and the charge against me of over- 
 confidence was not merited. As a matter of fact I 
 shall always believe— in fact I know—that Comfrey, 
 who was given the race, was only third, Sandia being 
 second, three quarters of a length from me. There 
 was no one more surprised than I was myself, and in 
 my trouble I may have said that the race had been 
 " stolen from me." But I made no charge whatever 
 against Mr Robinson, the judge, a gentleman I have 
 always had respect for. What I did say in my dis- 
 appointment was certainly twisted round. The next 
 day Mr Robinson with a newspaper man came to the 
 jockeys' room and asked me exactly what I did say 
 D 49 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 about him. I told him frankly that I thought I had 
 won but I never uttered one word against his honest 
 conviction that he had seen the race in the way he had 
 placed them. My opinion, as I told him, was that the 
 width of the course and the fact that the judge's box 
 was set so low between them made it almost im- 
 possible to judge a finish correctly. He listened very 
 pleasantly to me and said he was quite certain that I 
 had not been outspoken about him personally. Of 
 course it's a long time ago and makes very little differ- 
 ence now, but that race has always stuck in my 
 gizzard and I shall always wish that someone had 
 taken a photograph of the finish. 
 
 I was very upset, but Lord William Beresford 
 came up to me afterwards and said, " Don't worry 
 yourself ; we think you won, and perhaps you shall 
 ride for me on Friday." I should explain that 
 Cuthbert, who was book-keeper or secretary to Lord 
 William's stable, had already told me that there might 
 be a mount for me on Met a on Friday for Wood didn't 
 want to ride her, as he had had the offer of the mount 
 on a semi-certainty in the same race. But it was clear 
 that he did want to ride Sandia, in the same stable, 
 on the same afternoon. I dare say Cuthbert thought 
 that when I found I couldn't ride Sandia in the bigger 
 race I would refuse the mount on Meta. I had more 
 sense. " I'll ride her all right," I said. I did, and 
 I beat Wood a head on his hot favourite ! 
 
 Lord William was so pleased with me that Friday 
 afternoon that he announced : " You shall ride 
 Sandia too. Let Wood hunt up another mount." 
 And I won the Old Cambridgeshire on him. Those 
 were the days when that race used to finish at the top 
 of the town. 
 
 Mr Martin, above whose bar I used, as I have said, 
 
 50 
 
A POSTPONED SHOOT 
 
 to live with Mr Pincus, had been kind to me, and he 
 had niade up a shooting-party for the foUowing day, 
 Saturday. I was very anxious to have a go for the 
 first time in my hfe at the pheasants. Well, just after 
 bandia had won, Lord William came to me and said, 
 I want you to ride two for me at Hurst Park to- 
 morrow." 
 
 " Impossible," I repHed in my " fresh " way. " I'm 
 gomg to a shooting-party." 
 
 " Never mind your shooting ! " 
 
 " I can't put it off. Mr Martin has got it up speci- 
 ally m my honour," I said— and I meant it. 
 
 Lord Wilham put his hand on my shoulder and said 
 quietly, Now, little man, you have to come to Hurst 
 Park ; Fll see Martin." 
 
 I was going to stick to my guns, but Lord William 
 had a sort of way with him, and in the end I went to 
 Hurst Park, and I think I actually won both races. 
 One race I won readily enough, and the other they 
 didn t give to me, saying that I had lost a short head ! 
 Mistakes will happen. 
 
 Now that was a pretty good week's work. Mv 
 reputation in England had begun. For my own 
 pleasure I may as well add that although Lord William 
 often chaffed me about that party with Martin which 
 didn t come off, yet he made it up to me by letting me 
 shoot with him and his own party at Deepdene, 
 
 51 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 TALKS WITH LORD WILLIAM BERESFORD 
 
 Character and Disposition of Horses — A Take-down at Leicester — 
 Buying a Trotter — Myself against the Horse-swopper — Diddled — 
 Warwick in a Fog 
 
 The more I saw of Lord William Beresford the kinder 
 he seemed to become to me, and the more interested 
 he became in what I was doing. He was always 
 anxious to know what rides I was getting, and to in- 
 fluence others to put me up. In 1897 he was staying 
 at the Adelphi Hotel at Liverpool for the Autumn 
 Meeting, and several times he asked me round to his 
 apartment, where he would sit " talking horse " to 
 me for hours together. Sometimes others would come 
 in but I think he liked better to chat alone. Especi- 
 ally he was interested in the instinct of horses — not 
 any particular English horses that I was just then 
 riding, but those whose characters or dispositions I 
 had really studied. Some of the things about which 
 he drew me out may be put down here, for as the topic 
 interested him so it must others. 
 
 I have always had rather a reputation for doing 
 more with horses who are bad tempered and sulky 
 than other jockeys, but I don't take much credit for 
 this. I told Lord William that it was simply because 
 I knew that horses don't like to be bullied, and I also 
 told him that I had managed to find out the peculi- 
 arities of one or two of his own horses, and that I 
 would play up to them accordingly. For instance I 
 remember a colt named Lake Shore on whom I won 
 
 52 
 
KIDDING A PULLER 
 
 four races straight off the reel. He was considered an 
 awful sulker and sluggard. As a matter of simple fact 
 he was nothing of the kind. He got his bad reputation 
 because the boys made the mistake of trying to keep 
 him up to his work by riding him too hard. I found 
 out that it was necessary to fool him. He would not 
 be bullied. He became angry directly anyone on his 
 back started— as they generally did— by kicking and 
 pulling at him and whipping him too. My way with 
 him was, just at the start, to behave as if I were trying 
 to control him. I would tug at his bridle a bit and 
 then I would relax. That made him think I had given 
 it up— the struggle I mean— and he would strike out 
 for all he was worth under the impression that he'd 
 conquered me. He nearly always won when ridden 
 that way because he did his hest— on his own account. 
 One day at Liverpool there was a bad mix-up and 
 two horses came down. Now from what I have seen 
 I am quite sure that nine times out of ten when a 
 horse falls it is the fault of the rider. When a jockey 
 gets in a scramble or a tight place he is apt to pull his 
 horse's head about from sheer fright until the animal 
 loses control of his action. Then if he strikes into 
 another horse down he goes. But if he is allowed to 
 fight out his own battles he is most apt to win out. 
 Talking about falls too, and a horse's instinct, only in few 
 cases have I known a thoroughbred step on a jockey 
 who had fallen in a race. If a boy will lie quite still 
 when he is thrown the chances are that he will escape 
 without a scratch from a horse's hoofs. I found this 
 out once when riding in a field of seventeen at Nash- 
 ville. I fell and nearly all the horses actually went 
 over me and not one of them ever touched me. 
 
 Wliile I am writing of my attempts to get horses to 
 take to me I may as well tell of the only one that 
 
 53 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 wouldn't. He was an animal named Little Silver 
 and I knew him first in California. Somehow I 
 couldn't stand the sight of him. I never knew why 
 it was, but sometimes I thought it was because I was 
 afraid of him. I hated it every time I had to ride him. 
 I only won on him once for he wouldn't try with me. 
 But a kid named Eddie Jones, an exercise boy, could 
 take him out and win on him. He knew Jones and 
 they liked each other just as two men do. It must 
 have been a case much like that of Diamond Jubilee 
 and Herbert Jones in England. Of one thing I am 
 quite sure : you can get a real friendship with a horse, 
 and some horses as we all know develop real affection 
 for men or boys or goats or dogs, and even cats, and 
 they are jealous and nervous when the objects of their 
 affection are away. I remember discussing all these 
 points and instances with Lord William at Liverpool 
 that time. I shall have some more to say about the 
 question later on. 
 
 Lord William would often laugh at some of the 
 experiences I had that autumn (1897) when I was 
 riding and when he didn't happen to be there to help 
 me with his knowledge and advice. For instance, I 
 was induced to go down to Leicester by an owner- 
 trainer who had a horse called Well, never mind. 
 
 He was very serious about it. I just had to go. 
 Well when I got to the course I found that he told 
 some of my friends that they could bet on his horse. 
 This made me so mad, then and afterwards, because 
 if I had chosen I could have ridden the winner, who, 
 by the way, started favourite. The small man kept 
 me to my promise, and I know he had a bet himself 
 and that he succeeded in influencing my friends. 
 Judging from the manner we went down to the post 
 I wouldn't have taken a pound to a penny on my 
 
 54 
 
MY HORSE AND BUGGY 
 
 mount's chance. Before we'd gone the first two hundred 
 yards I was half that distance behind the others and 
 the lot had passed the post before I was much more 
 than half-way home. All the boys laughed at me. 
 Rickaby and Sam Loates were the worst ! The 
 owner came to the jockeys' room after the race, but 
 when I saw him I couldn't help saying, " You had 
 better get away from me." 
 
 I wouldn't even look at him, I was so mad. 
 
 " I'll sell my horse, for I've got another one, ten lb. 
 better than he is," he said after a time. 
 
 " Then sell him," I answered, " at whatever you 
 can get for him. If you have any relations in the meat 
 for animals line of business you'll know what to do." 
 
 I acknowledge it now : I couldn't stand the ridi- 
 cule : Fancy Sloan not being able to get a gallop out 
 of a horse ! I was properly taken in — in fact it was 
 the worst take-down of my life with one exception, 
 and I may as well tell that story here too. 
 
 I was living at Redbank in New Jersey, with 
 Johnny Campbell. It was the ambition of all the boys 
 about a stable, and especially those who had a little 
 bit of money, to possess a trotter and a buggy. I had 
 a bank roll of about seven hundred and fifty dollars. 
 Well, one day when I was idling about, a fellow I had 
 never seen before went past me slowly in a buggy. 
 A boy who had come to our boarding-house two days 
 before — he was " planted " there I fancy — said that 
 he knew him. " Here's So-and-so," said the boy ; 
 " he's a big horse-dealer." 
 
 The guy called out to me, " Like a spin ? " and 
 having nothing to do that afternoon in I hopped. 
 We went off at a fine lick ; that horse could trot. 
 After a while I said to my new friend : " Look how 
 he's sweating ; my ! it's pouring off him." 
 
 55 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 cc 
 
 Well it ain't to be wondered at," he replied, the 
 trotter going faster all the while ; " we've been to 
 Long Branch and back this afternoon, and that's 
 going some ! " 
 
 I didn't wonder any more, for it was a big journey 
 in the time. He shook the horse up then and I kept 
 feeling how much I should like to be behind him again. 
 
 After another minute or twd — for I was thinking 
 and he didn't interrupt me* — the horse-dealer said to 
 me : " Yes, he's a fine horse : there's a feller been after 
 him and I've sold him for four hundred dollars." 
 
 " How old is he ? " I chipped in. 
 
 " Well he's really about eight or nine, but I said 
 he's seven," and he winked and shook the animal up 
 again. " I'm going to deliver him to-morrow," he 
 went on, " with the buggy and harness thrown in for 
 the four hundred." 
 
 That was too much for me. " You're going to 
 deliver him to-day," I jerked out in a commanding 
 sort of way ; " you are going to sell him to m^." 
 
 "I can't do that," he explained as if he were 
 apologising already to the other man ; " what would 
 he think of me ? " 
 
 "Never mind what he thinks of you, the horse's 
 mine I tell you " — ^and so he was. I paid over the 
 stuff that night. 
 
 Before the dealer left he said, " There is only one 
 thing I want off that harness : it's those little plates with 
 my initials on the blinkers," and he added, " I'll be 
 round in a day or two to get them : my wife would 
 never forgive me if I didn't get those plates." 
 
 I had asked no one's advice about that horse and the 
 next morning I started to take my pride and joy out 
 for a spin on my own. I felt proud of my choice and 
 really I didn't think it worth while to consult anyone 
 
 56 
 
WARWICK IN A FOG 
 
 else about it. Hadn't I been in a livery stable and 
 didn't I know as much as the next fellow ? Well my 
 brother Cash turned up just as I was going to put the 
 horse in the buggy. The first thing he did was to 
 start laughing. My horse could hardly stand, let 
 alone walk ! He was eaten up with rheumatism ! Of 
 course the dealer had warmed him up the day before. 
 He had never let him stand still a minute, but jogged 
 him one way and the other when I got in and out, or 
 whenever we ought to have stopped. 
 
 I think I got forty dollars for the harness and buggy, 
 but where the horse went to I forget. He was never 
 any good. I never saw him again. His age was not 
 a day less than seventeen. 
 
 Lord William used to say that I never seemed to 
 do so well when he wasn't with me. He was right. 
 Another time was when I was induced, much against 
 my will, to go to Warwick. At first I had refused 
 but some of those around me who would bet on any- 
 thing I rode argued about it : " Tod, we hear that 
 one or two of those mounts you are offered can go a 
 bit ; you may as well ride." Still I stuck out. At 
 last, [however, I did agree. It was foggy when I 
 arrived near the place. I had been to Stratford -on- 
 Avon that morning, wanting, as all good Americans 
 do, to see Shakespeare's birthplace. I remember 
 we drove over from Stratford to Warwick. Getting 
 near the race track the mist got thicker and thicker ; 
 I had never seen the course before and it was a case of 
 groping one's way to the starting-post. I thought to 
 myself that I'd stick behind some other fellow in the 
 race and depend on his knowing the way. The starter 
 told us all to get as near to him as possible so he could 
 see us. We hunched in together and at last he got us 
 off. I stuck to the jockey guide, a small boy, that I 
 
 ^7 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 had selected for the purpose, but he didn't know the 
 course either ! We struck a patch of fog so thick that 
 you could hardly see your hand before you. At last 
 the two of us landed in the middle of a field somewhere 
 and had to walk back to the paddock about twenty 
 minutes after the others. 
 
 I was just inside the jockeys' room when the trainer, 
 a man with a very small stable, rushed in saying, 
 " Hurry up or you'll be too late to weigh out ; you 
 know you're to ride mine." 
 
 " I'm not going to ride again ; it isn't riding at all 
 out there," I answered. 
 
 He began bullying me and threatened to bring me 
 before the Stewards. Indeed he rushed out to do so, 
 but in less than a minute came the notice that the 
 rest of the programme had been postponed or 
 abandoned ! 
 
 58 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 SECOND IMPRESSIONS OF ENGLAND 
 
 Of&cials' Kindness — Liverpool Jumping Course — Never a Drink while 
 racing — Laid out at Kempton — My Opinion of Democrat, and — 
 Lord William's 
 
 I HAVE often been asked for some of my other impres- 
 sions on my first start in England in 1897. I certainly 
 noticed the jockeys were very nicely treated, and one 
 thing I had never seen in America were the luncheon 
 tickets which were given to us. The officials were 
 pleasant too. Mr Joseph Davis of Hurst Park, Mr 
 Manning, the Clerk of the Scales, and Mr Arthur 
 Coventry and several others were particularly kind 
 to me. There was a time in America when they tried 
 to treat jockeys like a lot of monkeys. I remember 
 one man over there who was promoted from one job 
 to another until he became a sort of superintendent of 
 the paddock — Paddock Judge they called him. This 
 man was always suggesting to the Stewards something 
 new which would in his opinion prevent this, that 
 and the other "abuse " and keep the Turf with regard 
 to jockeys " clean." One day, as the result of his 
 suggestions, an order came that all the boys had to be 
 in the jockeys' room at one o'clock and that they were 
 not to leave it until it was time to go to the post, and 
 that they had to come right back after the race until 
 it was their turn to ride again. In fact they were 
 to be caged up like a lot of monkeys. I wouldn't 
 stand for it. I said I wouldn't ride if I had to. The 
 
 59 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 idea of such a fool thing preventing any fraud if fraud 
 was intended ! 
 
 That reminds me of a certain trainer who in the 
 autumn of 1897 saw me walking about the paddock 
 at Lingfield instead of being in the jockeys' room. 
 He came up and said, " Aren't you going to ride ? I 
 want you to get up on one of mine." 
 
 Now I knew he was a fellow who had written a news- 
 paper article a few days before in which he had said 
 that I should be penalised, that I ought in fact to 
 put up extra weight, because my " seat on a horse 
 was unfair." But he didn't know that I knew about 
 it. 
 
 " Am I to carry a penalty," I asked him, " for 
 riding as I do ? " 
 
 " No, of course not," he replied, affecting to laugh, 
 but looking rather foolish. 
 
 " But didn't you write an article saying that my 
 seat was unfair ? " 
 
 He answered that that was all newspaper stuff. 
 
 " Did they pay you for the article ? " 
 
 " No, they do all my business for me." 
 
 " Then get them to ride your horse for you too." 
 
 I told Jack Watts the story. I remember that he 
 never stopped laughing about it. By the way I shall 
 always think that Watts was the best English rider 
 of the old school I ever saw. I liked him very much, 
 really liked him. I don't say it because he was 
 hospitable to me. 
 
 They used to think when I first arrived in England 
 that I was fogged with the English money, but I had 
 got used to it coming over in the Majestic. Before 
 that I had only seen it^ — bank-notes I mean^: — once. It 
 was when Charlie Mitchell was in America. I had just 
 met him and I was going out in a carriage to the old 
 
 60 
 
CHARLIE MITCHELL'S BANK-NOTES 
 
 Guttenburg track. I picked up Charlie Mitchell and 
 took him with me. He asked me what they charged 
 to go in and pulled out a bunch of English notes. 
 They still look to me like writing-paper. I hadn't 
 any money with me, I remember. Mitchell gave an 
 English fiver to the gate-keeper but that worthy 
 wouldn't take it : he had never seen one before. We 
 asked several people if they could change one of the 
 notes but without success. It looked as if Mitchell 
 would be shut out till after the first race. After a 
 time I left him. I went inside and found a book- 
 maker named Ike Thompson to change a bundle of 
 notes into American money for Charlie. As a sequel 
 I think he had a tenner on the only winner I rode that 
 day and came out well to the good, for mine, a horse 
 named Osric, was an outsider. Mitchell was delighted. 
 
 A novelty to me in England was the sight of the 
 steeplechase jockeys at Liverpool. I saw them for 
 the first time at the Liverpool Autumn Meeting. I had 
 never seen cross-country riders so tall and big. I 
 didn't know any of them but I didn't let that pre- 
 vent my staring. Not one of them offered to make 
 friends with me. Perhaps they looked upon me as a 
 curiosity, a kind of monkey. In the morning I had 
 gone out on the course and had a look at the fences. 
 It was all so colossal that it almost took my breath 
 away. Of course the jumps were greater and stiff er 
 than anything I had ever seen in America. It was 
 in the Grand Sefton I first saw them. To see the 
 horses going out into a country looking as if they were 
 never coming home again is the greatest sporting 
 living picture imaginable. I didn't have a chance of 
 seeing the Grand National till 1899. That of course 
 was more wonderful still. 
 
 Lord William would sometimes wonder at my 
 
 6i 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 appetite in the evening at Liverpool and Manchester. 
 He had heard of my good work with the knife and fork 
 at Simpson's. There I could eat three orders of beef 
 with vegetables and then switch off on to the saddle 
 of mutton. In hotels like the Adelphi in Liverpool, 
 the Queens in Manchester and elsewhere, I could eat a 
 tremendous meal and couldn't bear to go out to dinner 
 where I couldn't be sure of getting what I wanted. I 
 liked best a big cut from a joint of lamb with new 
 potatoes and salad, but it must be remembered that 
 dinner was my one meal of the day. One must confess 
 that the luncheon-rooms open on a race-course are 
 generally no very great temptation. I can say too 
 that I never took a drink when I was riding until 
 racing was over for the day. This self-imposed rule 
 was never broken during the whole of my career in 
 England and for years elsewhere, not even under what 
 might be called really necessary conditions. 
 
 One case in particular that I recall was at Kempton 
 Park; — I think in 1898 — when I met with an accident 
 through Mr Sol Joel's Latheronwheel rearing up and 
 falling back on me in the paddock. I had shouted 
 out to the boy to loose his head but he wouldn't or 
 didn't hear me, and I was crushed under him. The 
 horse tried his best to get off me with the true instinct 
 of the thoroughbred not to do injury. At last he 
 got clear. If I had not known how to respirate I 
 shouldn't have had any life left in me. As it was 
 when they came to examine me they found that my 
 pelvis was injured. The race-qourse surgeon put the 
 joint back in the socket and as I laid there the 
 doctor said that I had " better have a little neat 
 brandy." 
 
 " I will — after racing," I replied. 
 
 Lord William who was standing near — ^he had come 
 
 62 
 

 TRYING TO BEAT FORFARSHIRE 
 
 to see how I was — immediately broke in with : 
 " You've done with racing for to-day." 
 
 " Then who's to ride Democrat ? " I asked. 
 
 I shall put Cannon up," he answered. 
 
 No I am going to ride Democrat," I replied. I 
 think if any other jockey had been mentioned I should 
 have been content to lay there, but as it was I got up 
 soon after without the brandy. The next race was for 
 two-year-olds. Forfarshire was in the field. I was 
 only beaten a head. Lord William always thought 
 that it was my unfit condition after the injury which 
 cost him the race, but I can confidently say that it 
 was the best race I ever rode in my life. What is 
 more Forfarshire had 28 lbs. in hand that day, but 
 he was messed about a bit in the race by a horse 
 ridden by Madden. Sam Loates, who rode Forfar- 
 shire, blamed me for it afterwards and there looked 
 like being a fight, but — leave it at that. Lord William 
 always had too great an opinion of Democrat. As a 
 matter of fact he was a very ordinary horse, and I am 
 sure that had a jockey of the old-fashioned school 
 ridden him on that day he wouldn't have been in the 
 first six. I am not taking too great credit for myself 
 in saying this, for if a rider like Johnny Reiff or Frank 
 O'Neill or Milton Henry had been up they would very 
 likely have done as well as I did. Later on, by the 
 way, Democrat was given to Lord Kitchener for a 
 charger. The next race that day was a two mile or 
 a two mile and a quarter affair — I forget which — and 
 the doctor, Lord William, and others were all furious at 
 my attempting to ride. But I had my way and I won 
 the race, all the time suffering such tortures as I never 
 had known before. Altogether that uay I won three 
 racesi — without brandy mind you. However, I was 
 paid out for my foolhardiness by being kept in bed 
 
 63 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 for eight days, and I wasn't able to get about properly 
 for two weeks. I really think that what prevented 
 me breaking down altogether directly after the 
 accident and taking to my bed as soon as I could get 
 there was Lord William's saying that Cannon — ^then 
 my great rival in winning mounts — was to be put up 
 on Democrat. It is wonderful how much pain can be 
 stood when the blood is up ! 
 
 Lord William was very sympathetic during my ill- 
 ness, but it made me feel worse when he came to see 
 me and wouldn't talk about Democrat. I would say 
 to him, " Democrat could never have beaten Forfar- 
 shire, my lord," and I would almost have a relapse, 
 and would start feeling all my pains over again, 
 when he answered me, " We won't talk of that, little 
 man, you did your best." It made me feel like hell. 
 Lord William would never discuss the race afterwards. 
 I know that to his dying day he was convinced that 
 Democrat was the best horse in the race on that day 
 at Kempton. 
 
 64 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 A GLORIOUS WIND-UP 
 
 The Babyin the " Pram "-Nearly a Tragedy-Dining with an American 
 Owner-I have a " Follow "-The Record at Manchester-Four 
 Wmners and One Second— Police Protection— Dodging Swollen 
 Head— Those who claimed me— How Molly Plumb nearly spanked 
 
 I RODE various winners in the last three weeks of the 
 season of 1897 : Amhurst in a big field at Lingfield, 
 and a horse named Bambini at that dangerous 
 place, Northampton. I heard afterwards that the 
 course was done away with, and quite right too, for 
 It was certainly about the trappiest track I ever 
 struck. I shall never forget that race, but the danger 
 that particular day didn't come from the galloping 
 Itself. Right down beyond the turn, with no idea 
 that the horses were so near, was a woman trying to 
 get a baby carriage with a baby in it over the low rail 
 —a bit of gas-piping or something— to the other side 
 of the course ! She managed to get the front wheels 
 over, or half the " pram," and then it stuck. As we 
 came along we could see it. To whoever was on the 
 rails—and I was there— it meant certain destruction- 
 destruction to the baby and the baby-carriage or to 
 the jockey and his horse— or both. -^— was on my 
 whip hand and he was keeping me pinned on the rails. 
 I looked at him but he wouldn't catch my eye. I 
 shouted but— nothing doing. There was only one 
 course to take to save life and limb and I took it. I 
 barged into him and nearly knocked him over. But 
 
 E 65 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 the baby was saved and I was too. And what's more 
 
 I just beat him. Of course was mad, and he was 
 
 going to report me to the Stewards, but I got to them 
 first. If I remember rightly he was fined and put 
 do\\ai for the rest of the meeting. The Stewards had 
 seen the whole incidents of the race, fortunately for 
 
 me. 
 
 I rode winners at Liverpool and remember a rather 
 funny entertainment after that meeting. One of the 
 o^vner^— an American, with one horse only I heard 
 afterwards— who had won a nice little bit over a race 
 he had won kept on saying to me, " Now don't forget 
 when we get back to London 2jou are to have dmner 
 with me. I had dinner with you the last time." As a 
 matter of fact I think all the exchange of hospitality 
 had been pretty one-sided up to then. I went to 
 dinner and we sat down all spick and span, feelmg 
 good, and my host took up the card to order the meal. 
 " TOiat do you want ? Like some fish ? " 
 " Just what you like," I replied. 
 " Do you want any meat ? Well all right, per- 
 haps we'll have some soup. Ah ! petite marmite— 
 if we have that there's meat in it ; we can eat that and 
 we needn't order any other meat afterwards. Then 
 we'll have some Camembert cheese. Ever tasted 
 that ? No ? Oh ! you'll like it." 
 
 I hadn't put in a word and he seemed quite satis- 
 fied with himself. We had the soup and then the 
 fish— one small sole between the two. He took the 
 lead and had finished his Camembert before I had 
 
 looked at it. 
 
 " That's all right," he said as he lit a cigar. 
 
 Paying no further heed to him I asked the waiter 
 for the menu : " Now I'll have something to eat. 
 I've dined with you, now I'll have something on my 
 
 66 
 
GREAT MANCHESTER DAY 
 
 own." I ordered a steak, fried potatoes and a big 
 salad. He tried to put himself right, but he was a 
 cheap fellow at anything of that kind, and I repeated 
 his words : " That's all right. I've had dinner with 
 you : now I'm just getting in to a little fancy work." 
 
 ^Vhen I'd finished he made no move to pay But 
 as a last little tiy he said : " How do you expect to 
 ride if you eat all that ? " 
 
 " How am I going to ride if I don't eat once a day ? " 
 was the way I ended the conversation. 
 
 There was no particular feature about the three 
 winners I rode at Derby, but after Derby came the 
 biggest thing I had done in England. It was at 
 Manchester. On Thursday I won on Bavelaw Castle 
 m the Rothschild Plate. On Friday I got Sapling 
 home m a very big field for the Ellesmere Welter • I 
 had been on him at Liverpool and had won on him 
 there too. ^^Oien I went out to the old New Barnes 
 track on the Saturday it was raining and the going 
 heavy. I had only one idea in my head— to get away 
 to London after racing was over, for I was going to 
 Pans and to Monte Carlo. I would have gone any- 
 where to get out of such weather ! I was thankful 
 that It was the last day of the season. That Saturday 
 afternoon crowd rather astonished me, and some of 
 them laughed at me as the crowd had done the first 
 time I was seen at Newmarket. Little did I think 
 what was waiting me later on that afternoon as I 
 cantered do^vn to the post on Captain Machell's Manx- 
 man for the Farewell Handicap. There was a field of 
 fourteen. I got the run of them and won it. I heard 
 afterwards the horse had been well backed. In the 
 next race I was on a favourite, Mr Wm. Clark's Le 
 Javelot, and I was expected to win. They gave me 
 a bit of a cheer as I won it. I wasn't riding in the 
 
 67 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 next race. Then came the Saturday Welter with a 
 field of twenty-two. Neither the weather nor the 
 mud could shake my confidence : we slopped along 
 and at the distance I felt I had them all whipped. 
 The mare I was riding, Martha IV. she was called, 
 seemed to like me and I got there. That black mass of 
 people set up a roar when I passed the post. Lord 
 William was delighted and I had to dodge the people 
 who wanted to pat me on the back. I rode Keenan 
 in the November Handicap but couldn't beat Asterie, 
 who was better class. Then followed the Final Plate 
 and I rode Bavelaw Castle, whom I had won on two 
 days before. I knew exactly what to do and made the 
 horse to put in his best, but I hadn't seen one or two 
 who were thought to be dangerous. You get how- 
 ever into a kind of feeling that you must win when 
 you have begun, and Bavelaw Castle had to do it. He 
 
 did. 
 
 Four wins and a second ! I didn't get a swollen 
 head that day ; that I can say, whatever happened 
 to me before or after. My only idea was to dress 
 quickly and to get into a cab, but it wasn't so easy. 
 It looked a bit dangerous in fact, for they were wait- 
 ing there in the hundreds and thousands either to 
 shake my hand or pat me on the back or to grab a 
 souvenir,, All the stories I had read as a kid about 
 those who used to wait just to touch John L. Sullivan 
 came back to ME ! Ed. Gaines and I went out to look 
 for the cab, but it was impossible to get at it. The 
 crowd was closing in. Gaines's face was as white as a 
 sheet : he thought we should be trampled on. At last 
 they got a dozen policemen who formed a square 
 round us. All the same I should have liked to shake 
 hands with a few of them. I should have risked 
 having all the breath pressed out of me and I was 
 
 68 
 
CLEARING FROM THE CROWD 
 
 such a little fellow that I might have been dead while 
 they were looking for me on the floor. However, 
 there it was : I was the proudest kid in England or 
 America that day. Apart altogether from what I 
 had done before, I had just made good in England 
 and let them know that there was such a jockey as 
 Sloan. 
 
 All the way back to London I heard that crowd call- 
 ing to me—" Tod," " Toddie," " Sloanie," " Sloan," 
 and everything they could twist my name into. 
 
 In that short month I had forty-eight mounts and 
 won twenty-one races. Lord William sent me im- 
 mediately a splendid gold cigarette-case with the 
 names of the four Manchester winners engraved on 
 it and the second, Keenan. On the other side was a 
 reproduction of his own writing. 
 
 I was tickled to death at the idea that people were 
 beginning to know me and to talk about me a bit 
 more. Oh yes ! I plead guilty ! Nothing is going 
 to be kept back. I intend to write about all the 
 times I got a bit above myself. I confess that it 
 ended in that serious complaint, " Swollen head." 
 At the same time it was not unnatural at my age to 
 be a bit fresh when I had actually shown those who 
 had laughed at me and w^ho didn't believe in me that 
 I could do something they couldn't. 
 
 Now with regard to what I made. I had paid all 
 my expenses and had at the end of the season about 
 two thousand pounds over ; of course this was through 
 my presents. For the time I was at it this was equal 
 to or even better than in some other years in which I 
 rode. In this connection I have just realised — and 
 may as well put in here — that in all the years I rode I 
 never asked for nor charged any fee or expenses for 
 riding trials or gallops, nor did I charge my railway 
 
 69 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 expenses to meetings. This will be borne out by 
 owners and by Messrs Weatherby and others. 
 
 While when I first came to England there was no- 
 body to speak to me, after I had made a few successes 
 there was no end to the people who came up and claimed 
 me. Often it was impossible to remember having met 
 them before, let alone having talked to them ! But I 
 would go through the handshake and the ordinary 
 greeting : " Glad to see you." Some of them would 
 say, " Don't you remember me ? I was," etc., etc. 
 Sometimes they were just as funny as the man who 
 rushed up to Jim Corbett once saying, " How are 
 you, Mr Corbett, don't you know me ? Surely you 
 remember when you left Jackson, Mississippi, all the 
 inhabitants came out to see the champion pass through. 
 Well, I was the little fellow with the brown Derby hat 
 standing in the crowd." 
 
 I recall one man, a year or two after, who came up 
 to speak to me at Doncaster. He started telling me 
 that he had to thank me for giving him a winner at 
 Goodwood. He had had a tenner on and wanted to 
 thank me, for he had pouched a good win. Having 
 nothing to do at the moment I humoured him but I 
 told him that I had never met him at Goodwood to 
 begin with. He insisted that I had, and offered to 
 bet me fifty pounds that he was right. 
 
 " Show me the fifty," I said, kidding him. 
 
 " Well I haven't got it on me " he began. 
 
 " You don't look as if you had," said I, and drew 
 him on by adding, " Would you like to bet me ten 
 dollars ? Show me that amount. Eh ! What ? I 
 don't think you've got even that." The truth was 
 that he had tried to get up a conversation for his own 
 ends, perhaps in order to use my name, but I knew 
 by the way he had started that I had never spoken 
 
 70 
 
LADY FROM KANSAS CITY 
 
 to him. Fancy Willie — ^that's met — saying I was 
 going to win a race to anyone — especially a stranger 
 on a race-course ! " Let me tell you something," I 
 went on : "I have never been to Goodwood in my life, 
 and the only place I think I've seen you in before was 
 the waxworks." 
 
 As a matter of fact I never rode at Goodwood in my 
 life, and have never been near the place. 
 
 That was only one of a hundred odd incidents of the 
 kind, but speaking of being claimed I think the 
 funniest of the lot was when I made a trip to Kansas 
 City a few years after I gave up riding. I was in 
 the paddock when someone came to me and said, 
 " There's a lady wants to speak to you over there ; 
 she's sitting on the stand among the people there : 
 she says it's very important." 
 
 I asked who she was and whether she was old or 
 young, and her name, but the man didn't know. He 
 had received the message from someone else. So I 
 fell for it. There were a lot of people sitting near a 
 large lady who would have had to diet and waste to 
 ride twelve st. When I got to her she threw her 
 arms round me, while I struggled to get away. Then 
 she pushed me away from her to get a look good at me, 
 holding me by the shoulders with her strong hands. 
 
 " Don't you remember me ? I'm Molly Plumb. I 
 used to carry you in my arms when you were six years 
 old. I lived next door to you." 
 
 Now it was only twenty-five years before that I 
 was six years old. I remembered her very well and 
 added that I'd see her again when I came back, but 
 that I was very busy that day. That didn't please 
 her and she called out at me, " Tod Blauser " — Blauser 
 was my adopted mother's name — " for two pins I'd 
 turn you over on my knee and spank you." 
 
 71 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 What a shout went up from the people round ! I 
 laughed with them but she didn't, so the only thing 
 to do was to shake her hand in both mine and to say, 
 " I'm glad to see you, Mrs Plumb " — she may have 
 been Miss — and to make an exit. She called after 
 me, " I'm disappointed with you, Blauser. Mind you 
 come back and see me." 
 
 It was lovely to see her but she didn't realise I had 
 my business to attend to : she thought she was on a 
 fair-ground, I think. Mrs or Miss Plumb must forgive 
 me if she sees this in print. One is liable to forget 
 after so many years. But I could never forget the 
 name; she had been kind to me. Yet we'll hope to 
 have that promised supper some day, with nice baking 
 hot biscuits. 
 
 72 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 HOLIDAY INCIDENTS 
 
 My Aunts visit me — At the Races — " When do you perform ? '' — At 
 the Grand Hotel, Paris — Cost of an Illumination — Winning 
 Si 2,000 at Monte Carlo — My Present of Pointers 
 
 The incident I told just now about Molly Plumb and 
 her absolute ignorance of the race-course reminds me 
 of how I once gave an invitation to my aunts Lib and 
 Min — two sisters — to come and spend a week or ten 
 days as my guests in New York. They knew of my 
 fame at the time, and were tickled to death at the 
 idea of visiting me. Aunt Lib was really my adopted 
 mother, but I called each of them aunt, and Aunt Lib's 
 husband, Dan Blauser — a man of Dutch extraction — 
 Uncle Dan. I believe Aunt Min had once been as 
 far as Cincinnati, but the other had never journeyed 
 more than sixty miles away from home. They were 
 types of real good country people when they arrived 
 at the old Pennsylvania station on the New Jersey 
 shore. I had taken a nice suite for them in the 
 Imperial Hotel, great big rooms where they could 
 roam about and admire everything — and themselves 
 too if they wanted to, for there were plenty of mirrors 
 and decorations. 
 
 They spent their time running about New York, 
 and I did the best I could to entertain them, taking 
 seats for theatres and vaudeville shows galore. They 
 were peacefully happy. 
 
 Then came the races at Sheepshead Bay, close to 
 
 1Z 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 the sea. Neither of them had ever seen the ocean or 
 a ship and how they did stare with delight ! I had a 
 place just then down near the course, at Jerome Cottage, 
 and I gave them a whole floor to themselves. 
 
 On the first day after their arrival Sousa's band was 
 playing at the races and I got them two seats just 
 in front of the conductor. They were in raptures. 
 After settling them I had to leave them alone until 
 after the fourth race, but I had been told that they 
 were getting on very well. I had ridden three winners 
 in succession, and I put my overcoat on over the colours 
 I was to wear in the last race of the day and went off 
 to see how they were getting on. To begin with I 
 peeked at them from a distance and saw them beating 
 time to the music with beaming smiles on their faces. 
 I didn't interrupt at once, but when the tune was over 
 I went up and asked how they were getting on. 
 
 " When do you perform ? " asked Aunt Lib, for 
 all the world as if she were on a fair-ground — like 
 Molly Plumb. 
 
 " I've been performing — only three winners — ^and 
 I shall perform again in the last race," I answered, 
 and I opened my coat to show the colours. " All 
 you've got to do is to keep your eye on this jacket. 
 Didn't you see my performances earlier in the after- 
 noon ? " 
 
 " We saw some horses go by," said Aunt Min ; 
 " were you that little feller performing in front ? " 
 
 " That was me, and you must look for me on the 
 track in the race after the next one." 
 
 They promised that they would, but I am sure they 
 were much more impressed with my importance when 
 on leaving them I went up to shake hands with Sousa 
 and several of his leading men. They looked at each 
 other as if to say, " See the people our Tod knows ! " 
 
 74 
 
FIRST TRIP TO MONTE CARLO 
 
 I left them to their contentment until after the last 
 event, in which I finished second. 
 
 " We couldn't see that jacket of yours," said Aunt 
 Lib when the racing was finished, " you weren't per- 
 forming in front that time." 
 
 " No," I answered ; " it was a friend of mine's turn." 
 
 Poor dears, that one day gave them enough of 
 racing. They never wanted to go again. I often 
 wished that I could get an exact impression of what 
 they thought about it all. I confess that it took a little 
 moral courage to stand the smiles of all the people 
 round during the loud talk of the two dear women, 
 especially when one of them embraced me warmly — 
 a thing she was quite liable to do — bless her ! — several 
 times a day. No one was rude, however, or ridiculed 
 us, but I dare say many will understand my very mixed 
 feelings when they asked me in the hearing of scores 
 of people when I was going to do — my circus turn ! 
 Anyhow they went away very happy. It must have 
 been funny to hear them telling all the folks at home 
 about their trip. 
 
 I think they would have come to Europe if I'd asked 
 them. They had so much to learn — and so had I for 
 the matter of that ! 
 
 Perhaps I was a bit green when towards Christmas 
 in 1897 I left London for Paris and Monte Carlo. Ed. 
 Gaines was still with me, and I had another man too. 
 On arriving at Paris we went to the Grand Hotel — 
 that was before it was altered of course. I asked 
 for a bedroom with a bathroom off, but was told that 
 they hadn't got one ; then after a bit of whispering I 
 found that they only had one private bathroom and 
 that was in a swell suite costing something like a 
 hundred and fifty francs a day. I took it and the 
 boys accommodated themselves in two bedrooms 
 
 75 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 which belonged to the " apartment." We intended 
 to entertain a bit, but as a matter of fact we didn't 
 do much in that way, for no one knew me and I knew 
 nobody. With the exception of going round to 
 Maxims, which didn't interest me then, and the Cafe 
 American, where there were no Americans that I could 
 see, life was pretty dull for those few days. 
 
 I got tired of it all one night about ten o'clock and 
 we all went back to the hotel, where there was a bright 
 fire burning in my sitting-room. Now on the mantel- 
 piece and the walls there were large candelabra chock- 
 full of candles and I thought to myself, " If I'm paying 
 all this money for these rooms, I may as well make 
 the place as bright as possible, light the candles and 
 have a little party " — although there was electric light 
 and gas too if I remember right. So out I took a box 
 of matches and lit the whole lot — several dozens there 
 were. Gee ! didn't that room look dandy ? I began 
 to feel warm and cosy and I was much more cheerful, 
 until when I got the bill next morning just before 
 leaving I found thirty-six francs charged for those 
 candles ! I tried to fight them about it but — nothin' 
 doing. After that episode I felt inclined to cover 
 candles over with a cloth when I saw them at other 
 hotels, for fear the temptation should be too strong 
 for me. 
 
 At Monte Carlo roulette was nothing new to me. 
 I played twice a day for the six days I was there and 
 won about sixty thousand francs — about two thousand 
 four hundred pounds. I never had a losing sitting, 
 and I was mighty pleased with the packet I took away. 
 On the way back I stayed in Paris again for a few days 
 and had a much better time, for I got to know a few 
 people and rubbed along more comfortably with the 
 French customs. Then going back to England I 
 
 76 
 
NEVER A SECRETARY 
 
 sailed on the 15th January from Liverpool by the 
 Campania. 
 
 Crowds of reporters met me when we arrived off 
 the Quarantine Station at New York. I tried to avoid 
 them, but there were the usual interviews, and I remem- 
 ber that the reporters I didn't say a word to, or even 
 see, wrote the longest stories. A good deal had of 
 course appeared in print in New York during the 
 month of my success in England. 
 
 Mr Charles Fleischman had bought a hundred copies 
 of the Inter-Ocean of Chicago whenever anything had 
 appeared about me, and he had mailed these to all his 
 friends to show " how well his boy had been doing." 
 When I got to New York itself the reporters didn't 
 leave me alone : some of them from whom I scurried 
 burnt me up with mock interviews full of jokes at my 
 expense. They described my palatial apartment and 
 made out that my room was littered with cigar ends 
 and cigarette stubs and that the carpets and furniture 
 were all burnt and spoiled — the room of me, Tod Sloan, 
 who cannot help being neat and who loves tidy rooms ! 
 
 They also talked about my coloured servant — a 
 black nigger named Dick Keys. He was my valet 
 in town, while I had a white man, Frank Garrett, for 
 my race- course valet. The two used to quarrel like 
 blazes. Sometimes I thought I would have a secretary 
 to manage them, but I never reached that pinnacle 
 of success. At the last moment I would think that 
 I couldn't afford the luxury. Thinking it over now 
 I fancy that, with the way I was spending money 
 then and afterwards, a secretary would have been 
 jolly useful, for I was very careless about banking 
 and other business. Here is an instance : I went in 
 to my bank one day — it was years later than the time 
 I have just been writing about — in fear and trembling 
 
 77 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 to try and arrange an overdraft. I was afraid that 
 there was only a sum of three or four hundred dollars 
 to my credit. Wlien I had worked up to the suggestion, 
 the manager asked : " How much do you want ? " 
 " Five thousand dollars," I answered. I knew I was 
 good for that sum. 
 
 " Let's see how you stand first," he said, and in a 
 minute showed me a slip of paper with nine thousand 
 dollars odd written on it — to my credit, mind you. 
 
 " Wiat do you want to draw fourteen thousand 
 dollars for ? " he demanded. 
 
 I was taken aback and told him I only wanted to 
 take five thousand, but that I had made a mistake in 
 checking my pass-book. As a matter of fact I never 
 went through the items in my life ! 
 
 Before leaving New York I received two fine dogs, 
 pointers, from England. One was given me by Lord 
 Charles Beresford, and the other by Lord Marcus. 
 They were brought over in a private cabin and were 
 looked after by poor Andrew Latimer, who was then 
 Chief Steward of the New England. He was a great 
 friend of mine and of many of those who may read 
 this. It will be remembered that after several changes 
 of boats he lost his life in the Titanic disaster. Such 
 a real good friend to me he was, open hearted and 
 generous, in fact an all-round good fellow. 
 
 I took out to California the two dogs. I was greatly 
 pleased with the present and it is a pleasure to me to 
 know that there is hardly a good pointer in California 
 to-day who does not trace back in his pedigree to 
 Wisdom or Whisper, the names of the two. Breeders 
 in California owe a deep debt of gratitude to Lord 
 Charles and Lord Marcus. 
 
 I rode for a while in the very early spring on the 
 Californian track, especially at Ingleside, and was in 
 
 78 
 
CASH AS A BUILDER 
 
 fine form, winning about 40 per cent, of my mounts and 
 having on two occasions five winners. It is curious 
 that the number of times I reached this score in a day 
 was exactly the same in three places ; three times in 
 England, three times in New York and three times in 
 California. I have often been asked how many times 
 I have ridden four winners in an afternoon, but I 
 cannot answer this. I should guess the figures at 
 something like fifty. 
 
 I spent two days at my home town Kokomo soon 
 after I came back. There was a ball at Logans-Port 
 and scores of Kokomo people wanted to go, but they 
 didn't know how to get there. I settled the question 
 by ordering a special train and as many as liked to 
 go had only to step aboard. I put them up at the 
 hotel too as my guests. I was " some fellow," they 
 thought — the poor boy who had once run about the 
 town. It was " Blauser this " and " Blauser that " 
 until they found there was no special to go back by. 
 I told them I hadn't bought the train, and that they 
 had only to wait till the next morning for ordinary 
 cars. They didn't like it. 
 
 I also went to Chicago, where I had many friends, 
 for I had spent a long time there with my sister and 
 Cash when I was quite a little kiddie. It was when 
 living in Chicago in 1888 that Johnny Campbell came 
 to where we lived one night to take me out with him 
 to New Jersey. 
 
 Cash was making the living for the family in that 
 fall of 1888 — ten years before the time I have just 
 been speaking of. He was employed in building ; 
 that is to say, he hammered laths on unfinished walls. 
 He'd fill his mouth with tacks and I was certain with 
 the faces he made sometimes that he would swallow 
 a few. I used to go with him very often and hand him 
 
 79 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 the laths, and we would eat and drink what sister had 
 put up for us. Sometimes I'd pull Cash's leg : 
 
 " That fellow working over there is a goer ; he's 
 put up two laths to your one." 
 
 Then Cash would set his teeth, take a pull at his belt, 
 fill his mouth with a fresh lot of tacks, slap at the laths 
 and would look round every now and then to see how 
 his rival was getting on. He'd nod to me, for he 
 couldn't speak on account of the tacks, as if to say, 
 " What do you know about him ? I'm beating him ; 
 in fact I'm leaving him standing still." 
 
 The other fellows would see the joke and they never 
 hurried, for there was no piece work about the job, and 
 it made no difference to their pay, however many 
 laths they hammered on during the day. But Cash 
 couldn't think of that : he was always ready to sweat 
 and always out to beat the other guys. Cash, in fact, 
 was some worker, and at week-ends, as there was a 
 great rush time at the barber's, he got a job for several 
 hours on Saturday night and for four hours on Sunday, 
 shaving. He got five dollars for that. Of course little 
 Tod couldn't be out of it, and he used to go with him 
 and lather the customers. I would give them five 
 minutes of it sometimes while waiting for Cash to come 
 along with the razor. I had to stand on a stool to 
 get at their faces with the brush, and I used to put in 
 some fine fancy work. My, it was funny ! I used to 
 laugh then, and I laugh still more so now when I think 
 of it. 
 
 80 
 
CHAPTER XI 
 
 SOMETHING ABOUT CLOTHES 
 
 Wanting a Fit-out— Johnny Campbell's Order— He gets the BiU— A 
 Fancy for Shoes— On the Ocean without a Stitch 
 
 I SPOKE just now of going off with Johnny Campbell 
 from Chicago to New Jersey. About a year after I first 
 went to him we were at Long Branch races, and I 
 determined that I must get some clothes : I wanted a 
 suit badly. I figured it out that I could go to Powell, 
 a tailor in New York, and give him so much down and 
 have enough for my expenses and a bit left in hand. 
 I knew the suit would cost sixty dollars and thought 
 the balance could be paid when the things were finished. 
 I hopped into the train and in the parlour car the 
 first man I saw was Johnny Campbell. He looked me 
 up and down with surprise : " And where are you going, 
 my lad ? " 
 
 "Going to New York to get some clothes," I 
 answered as bold as brass, while looking for a seat. 
 
 *' You're going to do what ? " he asked again. 
 
 " Get some clothes," I repeated. " I'm sick of going 
 about hke this." 
 
 The train had moved off and Johnny seemed amused. 
 Presently he called me over to him, and said, "That's 
 all right and I'll help you," and he wrote on the back 
 of a card to Powell : 
 
 (( 
 
 Make Sloan what he wants and send the bill to me, 
 
 ''J. Campbell." 
 
 F 8i 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 I thanked him and on arrival in New York I went 
 straight to Powell's place, then at the corner of 12th 
 Street and Broadway. I gave the tailor the card and 
 then looked at the materials, chose one I liked and 
 was measured. Now I only weighed 4 st. 9 lbs., 
 and when Powell told me the price — sixty dollars — I 
 said, " Surely you're not going to charge a little feller 
 like me that figure ! Why, I sha'n't take half the stuff 
 that would be required to make you a suit." 
 
 Powell started to explain to me how much more 
 difficult it was to fit a little man and handed out all 
 the " guff " about the amount of stuff it took to make 
 some of his fat giants' clothes. He had to average 
 up, and so on. Besides, he added, cutting for me 
 took [just as much time and labour as for anyone 
 else ! 
 
 Now comes the joke : 
 
 " Summer's coming on ; surely you want something 
 lighter for the other suits ? " the tailor suddenly 
 asked. 
 
 " What others ? " 
 
 " Well Johnny Campbell says, ' Make Sloan what 
 he wants and send the bill to me,' so you had better 
 fit yourself out properly and have a couple more suits 
 and an overcoat while you are about it." 
 
 I laughed at what Johnny would think and say when 
 he got the bill but the temptation was too strong ; 
 I let myself go. I can tell you that when the things 
 came home I didn't half fancy myself and swelled it 
 about to the envy of all the boys at home. But you 
 should have heard what Campbell said to me when he 
 got the bill for two hundred and seventy-five dollars : 
 he didn't half let me have it ; but he paid it all right 
 and afterwards he would laugh and shake his fist at 
 me. In recent years Johnny and I have often laughed 
 
 82 
 
FANCIES IN BOOTS 
 
 over the incident. Anyone who reads this and who 
 knows him should ask him to tell it his own way ; 
 perhaps it will sound better than the way I tell it! 
 By the way, from that time on clothes were always a 
 great fancy with me, and boots too. In fact it may be 
 said that these were my real extravagances, but when 
 I was making money freely there was always a pleasure 
 in looking at something in value I had for it. Some 
 of my earnings in 1897 were left with London tailors, 
 and after 1898 I nearly always had my clothes and 
 boots built for me in England. 
 
 In the newspaper interviews, when they wanted to 
 poke fun at me, the reporters would say that I never 
 travelled without more than a dozen trunks and that 
 they were all full of clothes. As a matter of fact I 
 never took more than three ; but considering the size 
 of the garments I wore there could be a lot of clothes 
 stowed away in them! Certainly I was fanciful 
 about shoes and would carry a dozen or eighteen pairs 
 on a journey of any length. I had a joke one night 
 when there was a supper-party in my apartments at 
 the Imperial Hotel in Broadway, New York, where I 
 lived for some years. A parcel had just come home 
 and had not been unpacked : brown shoes, evening 
 pumps, and a lot of other shoes. The company, 
 especially the girls, were anxious to see what was inside 
 the big cardboard box and I let them open it to satisfy 
 their curiosity. My size was and is about one and 
 a half. Of course the girls at once wanted some of 
 these new shoes as something out of the ordinary, 
 something quite different to anything they had had' 
 but I was quite safe when I said to them : " Any of 
 you who can get a pair on her feet, is quite welcome 
 to take them home with her." 
 
 They all had a try but by no sort of persuasion or 
 
 83 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 by use of the shoehorn could they get their feet into a 
 pair. However there was no need for them to feel 
 hurt or put out, for I have only met two women in my 
 life who could wear my shoes, one — of her later — ^the 
 other a friend I cannot focus at the moment. 
 
 Speaking of clothes, I remember that when I crossed 
 to England in 1898 I had to travel without a stitch of 
 belongings. My brother Fremont, who by the way 
 does not come in much in the story of my life, and will 
 not, for he died in the autumn of 1914, had the knack 
 of doing everything wrong in any little commissions 
 he had to undertake for me or others. I was due to 
 leave by the Deutschland from the Hoboken Pier, 
 and Fremont and my nigger valet must go and put all 
 my things on the Kaiser Wilhelm, an opposition 
 German boat sailing the same day, but an hour earlier. 
 They waited on and on for me to appear, and then 
 when the Kaiser Wilhelm had sailed it occurred to 
 them to rush down to the Deutschland. We were 
 almost off when they arrived and I spotted them. 
 You should have heard what I said when I learned 
 what had been done ! They tried to explain that 
 they thought I might possibly have been somewhere 
 in one of the state rooms on the other boat, and that 
 they had waited on on the chance. In the middle of 
 my rousting them the Deutschland got under weigh, 
 and they had to slip ashore in a hurry. Apart from 
 the inconvenience I suffered I worried all the way 
 across about an unlocked suit-case which my brother 
 had deposited at the last moment with the other 
 baggage on the Kaiser Wilhelm. It had about five 
 thousand pounds' worth of tie pins in a leather case 
 inside it. But I never lost a single thing. All the 
 baggage was delivered to me at Southampton. It 
 was the eventful journey when the two ships raced 
 
 84 
 
AT SEA WITHOUT CLOTHES 
 
 each other across the Atlantic, our boat getting in 
 first by hours. It wasn't funny though to be all the 
 time without a single thing except what I stood up in. 
 People helped a little. There was a nice girl on board 
 who lent me a pair of shoes and a pair of stockings so 
 that I could have a change. Willie Sims, the coloured 
 jockey, who was on the ship, let me have a few collars, 
 and I borrowed a tie, a new one, from someone else, and 
 I shall always remember that I have never returned 
 it. I got hold of a shirt from someone too, a flannel 
 one, and managed to turn out fairly respectably for 
 dinner, but I felt a bit out of it all the same. Of course 
 everyone dressed for dinner at my table on that 
 voyage; they would. 
 
 The story got about in New York and of course 
 there were some funny pictures published. One 
 showed me beckoning to the Kaiser Wilhelm to come 
 alongside ; and great piles of baggage were drawn on 
 deck in a pile as high as the funnels of the big ship. 
 My luggage of course ! Just about this time too there 
 was a cartoon appeared in one of the dailies showing 
 " Uncle Sam " at Sandy Hook pulling me one way, 
 and " John Bull " on Land's End, England, hauling 
 the other. 
 
 The papers were on the whole kind to me in those 
 early days, but as I have said, some of them used to 
 roast me a bit, trying to tear me down by ridicule. 
 For instance, Jean De Reszke had said he would like 
 to see me and one day I called on him at the Gilsey 
 House. The next morning one of the papers made 
 out that I said when I went into his apartment, 
 "Hullo, Jean." 
 
 Hullo, Tod," they made him reply. 
 
 Viho do you ride for ? " I was supposed to have 
 continued. 
 
 85 
 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 Jean de Reszke answered — ^according to them : 
 " I'm not a jockey : I'm a singer." 
 
 My answer was the Hmit : " You'd better quit 
 singing if you want to make any money. Being a 
 jockey is the only way to get it. . . ." All lies of 
 course. 
 
 86 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 THE LATE KING EDWAED 
 
 Preparations for Second Visit to England — Getting fit — The Yacht 
 and the Horse Belmar — My Brother as a Fighter — Presented to 
 the Prince — His Personal Magnetism — His Wager of ;^2oo — Taking 
 my Tip about Encombe — " \Vhy didn't you take your hat off ? -' — 
 Promise of a Ride in Royal Colours 
 
 I OFTEN talked about England to " Pittsburg Phil," 
 but he never showed any wish to go over, preferring 
 to stay where he knew pretty well all that there was 
 to know. All the same he liked to discuss England 
 and English ways with me, and without any wish to 
 flatter me he used to say that he had always considered 
 that I was about the only rider he knew of at that time 
 who would make a success abroad. Several times he 
 thought of sending a man over, a journalist friend of 
 his, to back my mounts, but it came to nothing. 
 
 Phil did very well over my riding that season — 1898 
 — in the East, for I was in great form, riding two, three, 
 and four winners every day. I kept myself so fit too. 
 I had a boat — we called it a yacht. I named her 
 Belmar, after a horse I had ridden with great success 
 belonging to Phil. I was living at that time in a 
 cottage down at Sheepshead Bay. William Fleisch- 
 man, who was agent for the stable, was nearly always 
 down there with me, and Mr Julius Fleischman, who 
 owned it, would often come and see us. We spent a 
 lot of our time in fishing on the Belmar. And I used 
 to have as much pleasure in sailing the boat as I had 
 in riding the horse it was called after. 
 
 87 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 I won five or six handicaps on Belmar off the reel. 
 I have never come across a more intelhgent horse : 
 he knew the winning post just as well as I did, and I 
 had the sense to trust to his wisdom more than once. 
 I learnt to give the credit for my wins on him to him. 
 I won several events by a head, in which I know if 
 they had been run a second faster, or if he had had 
 ten pounds more weight to carry, I believe the result 
 would have been the same. I learnt all his peculiarities. 
 How that horse just loved to race ! He would line 
 up with the others as quiet as a lamb ; then he would 
 break away and take his position. He always came 
 along about three furlongs from home and — won. 
 As soon as he passed the post his ears would change. 
 Surely if there is any real expression about a horse it 
 is in his ears. No matter how hot the finish had been 
 Belmar would relax after he had finished his gallop, 
 and would hardly even make an effort to walk to the 
 paddock. He would lick my face like a dog and never 
 kicked or bit anyone. 
 
 I have always claimed that the horse is the most 
 intelligent animal in the world. I have argued it 
 out again and again, especially in connection with the 
 old-time rivalry between horses and dogs. It must be 
 remembered that a horse never gets the same chances 
 that a dog does. A dog is about the house, is talked 
 to, sees what human beings are doing from morning 
 to night, gets familiar with the sound of words, and 
 generally is trained or given lessons to like a child. 
 But the horse is so much more alone ; he is left to him- 
 self. If you could get a thoroughbred as small in size 
 as, say, I am compared with Jack Johnson, and let 
 that little horse run about a house, well — Heaven 
 knows what he couldn't do in the way of parlour tricks. 
 I only put this down by the way. Yes, people should 
 
 88 
 
ANOTHER BROTHER 
 
 always remember, when placing the dog in front of 
 the horse for intelligence, that we do not take the 
 horse into bed, and into our living rooms ; we do not 
 let them sleep on our sofas and chairs. 
 
 Altogether in that 1898 season in America up to 
 August I rode about 190 winners. Just before I left, 
 in that month, I began to feel tired, extraordinary as 
 it may seem, and I was even thinking of retiring for 
 two or three months in order to go shooting or some- 
 thing of the kind. I had got as far as I could get in 
 the way of riding success and I was longing to achieve 
 something in another walk of life. That was why I 
 wasn't sorry when the message came for me from Lord 
 William and I got permission to sail. A lot of American 
 sports had made up their minds to follow me across 
 in order to back my mounts. Indeed they went by the 
 same ship, and claimed me on board — that is to say, they 
 lost no time in striking up an acquaintance. I didn't 
 own the ship, so I was in no way responsible for 
 what people afterwards called the " American 
 invasion." 
 
 I didn't take Ed. Gaines with me this time, but for 
 a day or so I had an idea of letting my brother Fremont 
 have the trip. However, I altered my mind. He 
 was making his living training a few horses for Mr 
 Fleischman out West and I thought he had better 
 stick to that — for the present at least. I also had it 
 in my mind that he might be developed and get a 
 match on fighting, for he was about the hardest hitting 
 bantam weight I have ever struck. Jimmy Berry, the 
 champion bantam, remembered my poor brother, 
 and used to tell me several times that Fremont had a 
 bigger thump for his weight than nineteen boys out of 
 twenty he had fought. It will be remembered that 
 Berry was some authority : it was he who unfortun- 
 
 89 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 ately killed Walter Kroot at the National Sporting 
 Club, London. 
 
 I was in Jim's corner that night, and it was not till 
 the twentieth round that the last blow hit over the 
 heart put Kroot out. Of course we were all very upset. 
 I remember that Berry came to my room about two 
 o'clock in the morning. They had told him that 
 Kroot would get over it, but my own idea was then 
 and always has been — although I didn't say so at the 
 time — that it was only a matter of minutes that Kroot 
 could live after Berry hit him. About four o'clock we 
 telephoned and heard that Kroot was dead. They 
 arrested Berry, but let him out on bail and everyone 
 was held blameless, the verdict being given as simple 
 misadventure. I bring this in just to show that, if 
 a man of Berry's class could think so well of my brother, 
 who by the way was two years older than me, it was 
 worth my giving a thought to developing him. How- 
 ever, poor chap, he was so unlucky that I decided I'd 
 better not. He cried on the wharf — partly over the 
 luggage business and partly because he wasn't going 
 with me. 
 
 Lord William was if possible kinder than ever to 
 me when I got back to England, and they were a good 
 lot of horses that they had ready for the autumn 
 campaign. It was during these three months that I 
 was to have the greatest surprise of my life. I was 
 to have a chance of speaking to the late King Edward, 
 then Prince of Wales. One day at Newmarket Lord 
 William came for me to the jockeys' room and asked 
 me to put on my coat over my riding clothes and 
 come out. Getting into the Birdcage he told me that 
 the Prince had sent for me, and that I was to be 
 presented to him. We w^alked to where the Prince 
 was standing, and he smiled as I came towards him 
 
 90 
 
THE PRINCE'S MAGNETISM 
 
 and shook my hand very warmly. Never in my life 
 have I been put so much at my ease nor treated so 
 splendidly. After all I was only a visiting American, 
 and only a jockey at that^ — although I had been doing 
 so well at my game. 
 
 The Prince asked me a lot of questions. Was I 
 happy? How did I like England? What did I 
 think of the racing, of the grass courses ? Just before 
 I left him — feeling all the time as if I'd like to talk to 
 him the entire afternoon — he said that I should ride 
 for him some time or other, and he gave me time to 
 answer : " It would be a pride and honour to do so." 
 
 There were several other opportunities of meeting 
 and talking to that great kind big-hearted man. I 
 used to think to myself how pleased they would be at 
 home and how they would ask me all about it, and 
 what the American papers would say. I can tell you 
 that although I come from democratic America, there 
 was a wonderful impression left on me by the great 
 personal attraction of that royal gentleman. It sort 
 of drew me to him in the same way that a magnetic 
 crane in all its strength will pick up scrap iron. I 
 don't mean to say I came off the scrap heap ! But 
 perhaps many can understand the different emotions 
 I had then and after when thinking of that presenta- 
 tion. The impression never seemed to wear off either 
 even when he spoke to me again — as he did frequently. 
 
 One day he told me that he was no gambler, and 
 that as a rule he hardly ever had more on a horse than 
 twenty-five pounds, but that he used to make an 
 exception and risk a couple of hundred on anything 
 that I was riding and that I told him I thought would 
 win. 
 
 I remember once — it was the last race of the 
 year at the Newmarket meetings — I was riding a horse 
 
 91 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 called Encombe that I had influenced someone a few 
 days before to buy out of a selling race. On my way 
 to mount Encombe in the paddock the Prince beckoned 
 to me. He was standing with Lord Marcus Beresford, 
 who was holding the bridle of a colt Richard Marsh 
 had in the same race. 
 
 " Sloan," said the Prince, " what are you riding ? " 
 
 I told him Encombe. 
 
 " Do you think you have a chance ? " he asked, 
 and I answered frankly that I thought Encombe was 
 a good thing. 
 
 Lord Marcus spoke up then and told me I was wrong 
 and that Encombe would be nowhere. " We shall 
 beat Encombe," he went on, " and Dundonald will 
 beat both." 
 
 I listened of course, but before I left to get in the 
 saddle I turned to the Prince : " Never you mind 
 what Lord Marcus says, your Royal Highness. You 
 can be a plunger here and have a bit on me." 
 
 The Prince roared ; he was laughing at my nerve at 
 speaking so boldly to him I suppose. Well I was think- 
 ing of what I had said all through the race. I beat 
 Dundonald after a desperate finish. 
 
 The Prince told me afterwards that he had taken my 
 advice and had put two hundred pounds on Encombe, 
 who I think started at about 7 to 2. 
 
 When I was talking to the Prince I couldn't help 
 admiring the way he dressed. Especially did I like 
 his overcoats, hats, and cravats. Now some of the 
 American papers used to twist about everything I said 
 — and didn't say for the matter of that — and some 
 reporters, by whom I wouldn't be interviewed, would 
 invent all sorts of things on their own. One yellow 
 journal in particular made me say, without ever 
 talking to me about the subject, that I thought the 
 
 92 
 
LORD WILLIAM'S REBUKE 
 
 King of England dressed very badly. Of course this 
 leaked through somehow, and Lord Marcus afterwards 
 called me over the coals for what had appeared. I 
 was, and am, quite sure that it had only been written 
 to cause trouble. Anyhow Lord Marcus said severely, 
 " You should never speak of him [meaning the Prince] 
 at all." 
 
 " I never did, my lord," I answered. " The most 
 I ever did was to answer a question of one paper saying 
 that the Prince was a great sportsman, speaking of 
 the pleasure all English people had in seeing him walk- 
 ing round like a private citizen in the paddock with 
 no one bothering him at all." 
 
 Speaking about being presented : when the present 
 King George, then Duke of York, was at one of the 
 July meetings at Newmarket Lord William came in 
 the Plantation where I was just ready to get in the 
 saddle, and told me I was to speak to the Duke, the 
 Duchess, and one or two others of the royal family. 
 The Duke of York shook hands with me and asked 
 questions, and I bowed low, having a bit of experience 
 by this time. I thought I was getting on fine. The 
 conversation lasted quite two minutes, and the present 
 King was very kind to me. I was tickled to death 
 when I was shaken hands with and went off to mount. 
 I looked to Lord William for approval but he hadn't 
 got a smile, and only said quite simply : " WTiy didn't 
 you take your hat off ? " 
 
 This got me up and I bleated : " Why should I 
 have to go back to the jockeys' room right over on 
 the other side of the course, my lord ? I should have 
 to brush my hair and tie my cap on again. I shouldn't 
 have had time. I couldn't have ridden in this race 
 then. Remember I'm an American, my lord, and 
 don't understand all these things." 
 
 93 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 He only smiled, but I was sore that I hadn't 
 done exactly as I should, especially after thinking 
 I had such swell manners. When I was presented to 
 King Edward I heard nothing about the cap business ! 
 
 At that time I received so much kindness from all 
 the members of the Royal Family with whom I came 
 in contact that I should like now, while I am on the 
 subject, to tell the story of Nunsuch, whom I rode for 
 the then Prince of Wales (King Edward VII.) in the 
 Cambridgeshire and the Old Cambridgeshire. 
 
 94 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 NUNSUCH's CAMBRIDGESHIRE 
 
 Newspaper Criticism — " Boss " Croker's Shooting — Breaking the Rules 
 
 I WAS looking forward to riding Nunsuch in the 
 Cambridgeshire. This four-year-old of the Prince's 
 had been well backed and on the day of the race she 
 started second favourite. The race was a disaster, 
 but in the sequel I received more kindness from the 
 Prince and as much or more evidence of good sports- 
 manship as it has ever been my lot to discover in any 
 similar instance. I heard that all the closest friends 
 of the royal owner had backed the mare and I loiow 
 the bookmakers had written the name of Nunsuch in 
 heavy wagers to many of my own friends. 
 
 At the start Mr Arthur Coventry accidentally left 
 some of the best favourites, including Nunsuch, at 
 the post. The truth was that we were all w^alking 
 the backward way of the course when he dropped 
 his flag and in the result w^e took no part in the race. 
 
 One of the best- known sporting writers in England 
 — ^the late Mr Greenwood — said that " The right-hand 
 division were scarcely prepared for the fall of the 
 flag and four of them had their chances completely 
 destroyed. To Mr Coventry this failure would be 
 vexatious in the extreme, the more so as he had been 
 wonderfully successful of late." 
 
 My disappointment over this can well be imagined, 
 and I felt very, very badly on returning to the weighing 
 enclosure, and saw the Prince coming towards me 
 
 95 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 smiling. I couldn't see anything to smile at myself 
 and I must have shown it, for I know that I felt all 
 the other way ! Well, the Prince came up to me and 
 said : " Well such things do happen and it cannot be 
 helped ; I will start Nunsuch again in the Old Cam- 
 bridgeshire the day after to-morrow and you shall ride 
 her again." 
 
 I won with her then, beating practically the same 
 field that she had met before. After this race the 
 Prince gave me the set of colours I had worn and 
 a diamond horse and jockey pin. That was the 
 beginning of riding a good many winners for the late 
 King Edward. 
 
 I should like to state here that in the last season 
 in which I rode — 1900 — I had the great surprise at 
 Doncaster of Lord Marcus Beresford coming up to 
 me and telling me that the Prince wished to have first 
 call on me for the season of 1901 and that he was 
 prepared to make me the offer of six thousand guineas 
 for the claim. I accepted on the spot and looked 
 forward with the utmost pride towards keeping the 
 contract. The English Stewards, however, prevented 
 me from fulfilling it. 
 
 Just as I had fixed up everything with Lord Marcus, 
 his brother. Lord William, had a cable from Mr 
 Whitney in America : 
 
 " We must have Sloan, get him at any price, he is 
 far ahead of the lot and worth anything for big races 
 even with all his faults." 
 
 Lord William showed me the cablegram and I had 
 to tell him what had happened. I could see that he 
 was a bit upset — I won't say annoyed — but he said 
 he would like to try to get me out of the agreement 
 with the Prince. He " never believed," he said, 
 " that the English people would put up with an 
 
 96 
 

NEWSPAPER CRITICISM 
 
 American jockey being first rider to the King-to-be." 
 He added : " My little man, I am afraid you have 
 made a big mistake. I hope not though. Mr 
 Whitney and I will have to put up with a second call 
 on you." And then he told me that he would pay 
 three thousand guineas for that. 
 
 Some of the English papers had a good deal to say 
 about this matter, one writer going so far as to say 
 that " the retainer bestowed upon Sloan caused great 
 astonishment on account of the exalted position of 
 the patron " ; and further went on : " Owing to the 
 Prince's great popularity as a sportsman people are 
 slow to criticise adversely anything his Royal Highness 
 does ; however, there can be no gainsaying that the 
 shelving of the most representative and best conducted 
 of English jockeys in favour of an American professional 
 has given rise to a very painful feeling ; perhaps the 
 Prince was not altogether responsible for engaging 
 Sloan." How circumstances led to that contract 
 not being carried out will be told in due course. 
 
 • ••••••• 
 
 The King often laughed over the story of my visit 
 to Lord William's place at Deepdene for the shooting. 
 I had taken down a new gun from a London maker 
 on which I paid a deposit of fifteen pounds, making 
 the bargain that if it suited me I would give him the 
 balance and that if it didn't I would pay a sum for the 
 use of it. 
 
 We hadn't long started, and I took my first shot. 
 The gun burst ; showing at the break jagged pieces like 
 a saw. I know I had a very narrow escape of losing 
 two or three fingers. I could see that all the other 
 guests thought it was my fault, and that I was not used 
 to firearms. The truth was that I had handled them 
 all my life and perhaps I could have given points with 
 G 97 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 any gun to the majority of those present. When the 
 accident happened Lord Wilham said kindly to me, 
 " It can't be helped," and I felt that he and some of 
 the others were pitying me, perhaps even laughing at 
 me ! 
 
 Anyhow I asked the loan of another gun but Lord 
 William answered in a sort of fatherly manner : " Oh, 
 surely you don't want to shoot again to-day, do you ? " 
 I insisted however and ultimately I got a gun that 
 didn't fit me a bit, but I went in to do my best with it. 
 Then I heard someone say, " We'd better stop before 
 Sloan shoots somebody ! " — and when soon after 
 someone else called " woodcock," everyone's idea was 
 to get out of my neighbourhood. 
 
 I missed my first shot or two and I felt pretty sore 
 when I heard another remark : " Sloan hasn't shot 
 anyone yet." It made me mad. But all the same I 
 got in a pretty right and left, which made me feel a 
 little better, and the day finished up with my having 
 done my share at all events. 
 
 There had been an amusing incident at luncheon 
 that day. It was a large party but it seemed waste 
 of time with such good sport awaiting us that an hour 
 should be taken for the meal — and in those days I 
 was never an eater midday. Lord William was kind 
 enough to press me to take something but I told him 
 that I " wanted to shoot," and I couldn't if I was 
 helped to a lot of good things. But when he again 
 suggested that I should eat a bit I said I would have 
 some butter with the bread I had just broken. Then 
 it was discovered that there was none on the table, a 
 thing which struck me as rather odd considering that 
 butter is always put on in America for meals. I 
 noticed then that butter in any quantity does not make 
 its appearance in English homes until the cheese is 
 
 98 
 
BOSS CROKER'S SHOOTING 
 
 brought on. Anyhow the butler was asked for butter 
 and some little delay occurring in its being produced, 
 Lord William asked again, and eventually a small plate 
 of it was put in front of me. I could always eat bread 
 and butter when having no real appetite or desire to 
 eat anything else, and I managed to keep company with 
 others, really lunching that day so far as my butter went 
 anyway. When I left that evening after the shoot 
 Lord William said, " Good night, little man. I'm glad 
 you showed them you could shoot birds instead of 
 men, and the next time you come here to meals there 
 shall be dishes of butter all over the table ! " 
 
 Writing of shooting reminds me of another story 
 which Lord William told King Edward and which 
 tickled him. It was a pure invention of mine at the 
 expense of Mr Richard Croker but it was repeated from 
 one to the other. The " Boss " had chaffed me once 
 about something or other, so I got even with him by 
 saying very seriously to two or three gossips who I 
 knew would hand it about that, when Mr Croker 
 and I were in adjoining butts one day shooting, a bird 
 came running towards him. According to me the 
 " Boss " had his gun ready to fire. 
 
 " Don't shoot the bird running," I called out. He 
 replied (again according to me !) : " No I won't, I'm 
 waiting for it to stop ! " 
 
 Mr Croker met me after that and said, " You villain, 
 I can't get away from that yarn you spun about me! 
 I heard it yesterday in Dublin and it has even got over 
 to America and has been printed from New York to 
 the middle West, and from there to California, and 
 South to New Orleans. Sometimes I begin to think 
 it's true, and most of my friends seem to be quite 
 certain about it." Then he laughed as heartily as I 
 did all the time and shook his fist at me. 
 
 99 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 There was one race I rode for the King in which he 
 thought I must have brought him luck, for the animal 
 I was on might have been beaten many a length by the 
 best horse I think I ever saw up to seven furlongs. It 
 was in the Portland Plate at Doncaster in 1900. 
 Morny Cannon rode Eager, the horse I have just re- 
 ferred to, and I was on Lucknow, owned by the Prince. 
 We swept along together in the last hundred yards. 
 I was on the rails ; " Morny " and I were neck and 
 neck : Eager, his mount, was full of running ; in fact 
 he had pounds in hand. Perhaps " Morny " wanted 
 to make a fancy finish of it and to win by a narrow 
 margin. He didn't exactly squeeze me on the rails, 
 but certainly I was hampered a bit. However if his 
 idea was just to win it was upset, for as we passed the 
 judge's box Lucknow's nose happened to be just in 
 front. Frankly, I was not sure of it myself but I hoped 
 it was so. The judge gave it a short head. I am 
 afraid " Morny " was very upset. I dare say it was 
 one of the greatest disappointments of his riding 
 career. There was for a few minutes a talk of an 
 objection, but in the end nobody said anything, and 
 certainly there would have been no grounds for it. 
 
 It has often been said that one of the reasons for 
 my getting such a swollen head was that I was above 
 myself altogether from the fact that the Prince spoke 
 to me so amiably. On the contrary, looking back to 
 the past I certainly believe that in every respect he 
 lifted me up and put me at my best with my own 
 thoughts and made me hope to live up to what I 
 ought to have been but what I Avas not. Had I been 
 able to fulfil the contract for the Royal stable that had 
 been made with me for 1901 1 am sure I shouldn't have 
 given way to the temptation to get about so much and 
 — w^ell, back horses. Two blacks do not make a white 
 
 100 
 
Mv First Year in Exc.i.anu 
 
BREAKING THE RULES 
 
 and I'm not going to excuse myself for breaking a rule, 
 but I suppose many jockeys have sinned with regard 
 to an odd wager or two. 
 
 In fact, I have yet to know of the jockey who has 
 not had a bet, if only a small amount. The allurement 
 is too strong — too strong for human nature — when you 
 are told and believe that you are on a rare good thing. 
 
 Besides, in that year, 1900, it would have been diffi- 
 cult for me to keep up what was compared with other 
 years really a comparatively modest expenditure with- 
 out betting. Little or nothing came my way except 
 my riding fees. 
 
 lOI 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 A PERIOD OF SUCCESS 
 
 Caiman's "Middle Park" — What Flying Fox was — Doggerel on — "Me" 
 — Disappointments — " Impossible" — Yes or No 
 
 The first time that I rode five winners in one day in 
 England was at Newmarket on 30th September 1898. 
 I was feehng very fit that day, and I thought I might 
 win two or three races for Lord WilUam, but the record 
 all round amounted to five — three for our own stable, 
 and two for other owners. In the first event, a Selling 
 Plate, I was just beaten a head on an animal called 
 The Wake, Tommy Loates just getting home on Eau 
 Gallic ; they were a bad lot all of them. Then came 
 the Bretby Welter, where I got well away on Draco 
 for Lord William, and won anyhow by six lengths, 
 slight odds had been laid on the winner. I won the 
 next race, the Scurry Nursery, also for Lord William, 
 on Manatee, having led all the way. In the Rous 
 Memorial Stakes the stable intended starting Desmond, 
 but Landrail was pulled out instead. There were 
 only three of us and the public had a big gamble on 
 Quassia ridden by Morny Cannon, but pushing Landrail 
 out on coming down Bushes Hill I got home easily by 
 three lengths. Libra was my next winner, another 
 of Lord William's ; in that race Tovaros was thought 
 to be a good thing, and was backed accordingly, but he 
 couldn't get a place. I brought Libra out at the same 
 place as I had the winner of the previous race and won 
 by a couple of lengths. In the Newmarket St Leger 
 
 102 
 
CAIMAN'S MIDDLE PARK 
 
 " Morny " and I rode a desperate race home, he on 
 Collar and myself on Galashiels. He had waited two 
 or three lengths behind me till three hundred yards 
 from home but mine just got past the box by a head. 
 In the Rutland Stakes which finished up the day there 
 was a good thing to bet on in Santa Casa, ridden by 
 Madden, and trained by Jarvis. Santa Casa really 
 ought to have been big odds on instead of at even 
 money. Of course it was my previous success which 
 caused my mount to be at such a false price ; they 
 actually took 5 to 2 about it — Boomer his name was. 
 He ought to have been at 100 to 1 against, even in 
 that field of four ! Certainly he had no pretensions 
 to gallop with the other three. Of course I was beaten 
 out of a place. 
 
 Still it was a pretty good day to put in five wins 
 and a second out of seven mounts. 
 
 A lot of money went that day on Asterie for the 
 Cesarewitch run two weeks later.' Although it was 
 reported that I was to be up on the favourite Chalereux, 
 some of my friends who had made a packet that after- 
 noon were convinced that Asterie could win, and that 
 I would ride, so she was backed accordingly. But 
 I never had any look-in at beating Chalereux — and 
 never had the chance of riding him either. He finished 
 up favourite and beat me. My mount, Asterie, 
 whipped the previous year's winner. Merman. 
 
 I shall always remember the Middle Park Plate 
 which I won on Caiman with Flvincp Fox second. I 
 should say that Caiman was one of the poorest class 
 horses who ever won the race, and it really was a shame 
 that a horse like Flying Fox, a superior animal in every 
 way, should have been done out of what he so much 
 deserved. I repeat : Caiman was one of the most over- 
 rated horses I ever knew. The truth was that I under- 
 
 103 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 stood him and had him under such perfect control that 
 it was possible to do more with him than with perhaps 
 any horse of similar stamp. 
 
 Caiman had been a winner, but why they should 
 have taken 7 to 4 about him — Flying Fox was at 
 the same price — it is difficult for me to say, except 
 for the fact that they didn't know how poor an animal 
 he was by the side of the other. 
 
 In the race the other jockeys let me make my own 
 pace, " Morny " holding off on his crack until the 
 place at which he generally began his run. We went 
 slower and slower till we got almost to a walk just 
 before striking the rise out of the last dip. I was 
 watching him and saw him preparing to come along. 
 So I shot mine out before he got moving and stole the 
 race, Flying Fox, although going great guns, not 
 having quite time enough to get up. 
 
 I hope it does not seem that I am claiming for myself 
 too much judgment at the expense of others, but 
 without any brag or bounce I must say that there was 
 such a hopeless ignorance of pace among the majority 
 of those riding in the race, that I suppose I managed 
 to kid them and so got where I did. I always consider 
 that, however much of a " general " I may have been 
 in some races in my career, I can shake hands with 
 myself on that Middle Park Plate being the greatest 
 achievement of my life. 
 
 After the race Lord William, Charlie Mills and others 
 came round saying what a marvellous horse Caiman 
 was. But they wouldn't give me any credit for the 
 win ; they kept on repeating that Caiman was the 
 greatest of his age in training, and they stuck to it 
 too, even though I told them he was far behind other 
 horses which were unquestionably inferior to Flying 
 Fox. Charlie Mills and I had quite high words about 
 
 104 
 
WHAT FLYING FOX WAS 
 
 it, I remember, and I told him that in a true run race, 
 and if I had a chance of riding Flying Fox, I would bet 
 him anything from a thousand to ten thousand pounds 
 that Flying Fox would beat Caiman easily. " Morny " 
 rode Caiman once at Sandown Park after this and 
 beat some very moderate horse quite easily, and that 
 was taken as additional evidence : it put the stamp on 
 the much boosted Caiman. We all know of cases where 
 geese have been made into swans but there never was 
 a better example than that of Flying Fox and Caiman. 
 What a great horse Flying Fox was was perhaps 
 not quite imderstood by the Duke of Westminster and 
 John Porter during the horse's two-year-old days, bat 
 I had formed my opinion of him, which nothing would 
 shake. I was convinced that he was the best horse I 
 had ever seen in England, and that he would turn out 
 as good in reputation as Ormonde, who I never saw, 
 but who I had heard so much about. 
 
 One day at Chester a year or two later, when I was 
 riding something against one of the Duke's, he said 
 to me, " Are you going to beat us again to-day, Sloan, 
 like you did on Caiman ? " 
 
 I answered, " Yes, I am, your Grace ; but what a 
 shame it was that Flying Fox should ever have been 
 beaten ! I should say he's the best you ever had." 
 
 The Duke told me then that at one time they couldn't 
 believe it, but he added, " Mr Porter and I have come 
 to the conclusion that he is just as good as Ormonde, 
 and in some respects better." 
 
 That is an opinion which should go down to future 
 generations of horse lovers. I know that Mr Porter 
 will remember the late Duke saying it. Wlien the time 
 comes in this book for me to tell the story of Flying 
 Fox's Derby I shall explain how he might have lost 
 to Holocauste, but that will be no disparagement to 
 
 105 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 him, for all those who saw the race will remember that 
 Flying Fox broke away no fewer than five times — 
 each break numing from two to three furlongs. This 
 took such a lot out of him that I had the race won on 
 the grey Frenchman when he so unaccountably broke 
 his leg. However, all conditions equal, Holocauste 
 would not have had a chance. Mr Edmond Blanc 
 indeed deserved the success he secured when he paid 
 what was then a record price for Flying Fox. The 
 Turf was going very well in America at the time and 
 an effort should have been made there to buy him. 
 Look what he got in France : Ajax, Gouvernant, Adam, 
 Val d'Or, Jardy and others. The two defeats of his 
 career ? Well — these things will happen ! 
 
 Just about this time one of the London papers ran 
 a competition about " Sloan." I kept copies of some 
 of the results. Here was the first prize " poem." 
 
 " Of Toddy Sloan now let us sing, 
 Whose praises through the country ring. 
 Undoubtedly the jockey king, 
 
 Proclaimed by everybody. 
 
 " Unrivalled he upon a horse, 
 Possessed of spirit and resource. 
 One always should expect of course. 
 Some spirit in a toddy. 
 
 " Although of jockeys there are lots, 
 Expert like Cannon, Loates, and Watts, 
 It's Sloan that every backer spots. 
 
 From Sykes to Lord Tom Noddy. 
 
 " And if some unbelievers smile, 
 At what they call his monkey style. 
 They've got their ponies all the whole. 
 Upon the mounts of Toddy. 
 
 io6 
 
DOGGEREL ON— ME 
 
 " So backers cheer and bookies groan, 
 As race by race is won by Sloan, 
 On horses chestnut, bay or roan, 
 
 No matter if they're shoddy. 
 
 " They may be broken-kneed or lame, 
 He wins upon them just the same, 
 So here's to health, and wealth, and fame, 
 Of Yankee-doodle Toddy ! " 
 
 Here is another " beaut." 
 
 " At Chelsea Tod should make his home. 
 When he has time to spare. 
 For if that way you chance to roam, 
 I know you'U find Sloan's square." 
 
 Yet one more. 
 
 " I loved Fred Archer in the past, 
 I admire Tod Sloan to-day, 
 Still Tommy Loates will give him beans, 
 Before he goes away." 
 
 This was one at me. 
 
 " The best way to appreciate Tod Sloan is to put him in the Lord 
 Mayor's show." 
 
 And the last, which was much quoted at the time, 
 they keep framed in my home at Kokomo : 
 
 T actful, 
 O riginal, 
 D aring. 
 
 S kilful, 
 L ucky, 
 O bservant, 
 A mbitious, 
 N erveless. 
 107 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 The paper insisted on a reply from me and this is 
 what I sent : 
 
 " I like the English people immensely — at any rate all those I 
 have come into contact with, and those I don't know don't matter, 
 anyhow, do they ? I like your English race-courses too. 
 
 "The riding is not so difficult as in America ; here there is con- 
 siderably less work. I appreciate all the kind tilings that have been 
 said about me. As to the criticisms that have appeared, and which 
 I have seen quoted in one paper particularly, you may take it from 
 me they are nonsense from one end to the other. I don't trouble 
 about them one bit. Tod Sloan. 
 
 Of course it wasn't always velvet for those who 
 followed me, both Americans and the public, for, as the 
 papers said, " There were occasional proofs that Sloan's 
 influence on the market was independent of his average 
 — some costly reverses might easily have weakened 
 its potency — but that such is not the case shows how 
 loyal and plucky are his chief supporters and how 
 sheep-like that section of the public with whom it is 
 an article of faith to back his mounts. One recognises 
 Sloan to be a great jockey who has brains as well as 
 boots, whose mounts are to an extent picked, and who, 
 whatever and for whoever he rides, is always a trier 
 and never muddles away a race in the manner more 
 than one have been muddled away this week by crack 
 jockeys. All this one freely admits, but none the less 
 is a blind worship of the American to be deprecated." 
 
 Yes, of course there were some afternoons when some 
 of my backers looked doAvn their noses. It was their 
 own affair of course, and I had lost a bit very possibly 
 myself, but one thing which I always look back upon 
 with satisfaction : I did try to find mounts which had 
 a chance, but I can never remember an instance of 
 my doing somebody else out of a ride or of going 
 behind him to get it. I simply loved to win. It wasn't 
 
 io8 
 
DISAPPOINTMENTS 
 
 because of what the papers said, for really I seldom 
 read anything in the racing part except the descrip- 
 tions of the previous day's running and the weights 
 for future events. There was no special question 
 therefore of my liking praise or criticism. All the 
 same it w^as natural that I should feel keen on keeping 
 the hold on the public that I had gained and on one 
 occasion, just after riding those five winners at New- 
 market, I was due to appear at Alexandra Park. A 
 heavy cold kept me away. I resented very much that 
 I wasn't able to see that Saturday afternoon crowd. 
 There was some trouble as a result of this which took 
 some putting right. I had asked Charlie Mills to 
 make my excuses to the Clerk of the Scales and to 
 explain that only ill-health kept me away. He forgot all 
 about it. Anyhow they were very angry with me for 
 not fulfilling my engagements, and it made bad feeling. 
 
 Another disappointment I had about that time was 
 when I was just beaten in the Duke of York Stakes 
 on Mount Prospect. A dead outsider, Sirenia, a real 
 nice mare, pipped me a head. It wasn't altogether a 
 question of what had been won and lost, but at popular 
 meetings, and especially on Saturday afternoons, I 
 never tired of hearing the music of the boys calling 
 after me when I had any real success. 
 
 With regard to amusement. In those autumn 
 days of 1898 there were the usual odds and ends 
 of London life — the theatres, music halls, games of 
 bridge, supper-parties — I only looked on at supper — 
 and there was the usual experience of meeting more 
 people than I wanted. Please, please, do not think 
 that I had such conceit that I used to put aside or be 
 casual to those I was introduced to, but — ^well, I didn't 
 always properly reckon up who they were. I know 
 that I may have been off-handed and I may in conse- 
 
 109 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 quence have been thought rude by those who were 
 really anxious to do me good and whom to know was 
 an honour and privilege. But — do you get me ? — 
 there were so many of the " also rans " who got round 
 me, scraped introductions, and then traded on the 
 acquaintance and used me in every way to pull their 
 stunts and put it across the simple people who were 
 so ready to believe anything from people who could 
 say they " knew Sloan " ! " Save me from my 
 friends " is an expression that Lord William taught me. 
 
 Tlie truth was that I could never find out, to the 
 extent I wanted to, who really were those I should 
 be with. I knew quick enough those I liked, and I 
 suppose it can be said that I stuck to those whose friend- 
 ship I valued. There were others however. A chance 
 meeting, a cocktail, just one odd word — it doesn't 
 matter what it was about — ^and I was quite liable to 
 hear that " Sloan had said " — well — this, that and the 
 other. These things got round and about one or two 
 of the big London hotels, and I heard afterwards even 
 that syndicates had been formed to back horses, and 
 that I was supposed to supply the " information " ! 
 It made me mad sometimes. " Straight from the 
 horse's mouth," was nothing to what I was supposed 
 to have said on various occasions in order to do mugs 
 a good turn. I know that there was all sorts of money 
 torn from various people who used to be about. A 
 few of the " steerers " didn't settle, and some were 
 even supposed to be betting for me, but I had no 
 more to do with them than nine hundred and ninety- 
 nine people out of a thousand who read this book. 
 
 Round about the Savoy certain people used to look 
 upon me as a curiosity, and I felt sometimes I would 
 sooner be up in my room reading the papers from over 
 home. It was the staring and the remarks which made 
 
 no 
 
IMPOSSIBLE -YES OR NO 
 
 me — now believe this — SHY. I was supposed to 
 swank, but please don't believe all that. I won't go 
 so far as to say that I was nervous, but didn't want 
 all the gazing and chatting as I passed. I have heard 
 that people who are called affected can be so from 
 sheer shyness — they are trying to pass it off. Perhaps 
 that was my case. 
 
 I wasn't exactly " unformed " but I was quite 
 likely to meet those of a kind I had never seen before 
 and I had to get to know them — and they me. Have 
 I explained myself ? I was in and about everywhere, 
 I could do the weight and hadn't to spend night after 
 night in Turkish baths, and because I liked clean clothes 
 and felt that I could do what others did — meet my 
 friends and have decent meals — my enemies began to 
 say that I was " impossible." That was the beginning 
 of the events that led to my being " shopped." AVhat 
 people said at that time was most undeserved whatever 
 it may have been later on. 
 
 Ill 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 TRAINERS — AND TRAINERS 
 
 George Blackwell's Ability — Byron MacLellan — How Horses were shod 
 
 A GREAT deal of credit was given to American trainers 
 in England for some of the successes achieved by 
 horses in their hands and frequently this was laid on 
 with too heavy a brush, and insufficient acknowledg- 
 ment made for what American riders had done. I 
 was often asked what I thought of So-and-so — ^among 
 trainers — and others, but at the time I thought it as 
 well to give evasive replies. One American trainer 
 in England I should say didn't know a horse from a 
 billy-goat although he was a good stableman ! For 
 the matter of that there were many English trainers 
 who were just as bad. Some of them held " proud 
 positions." I could never understand how they got 
 them ; in fact the thing was often one of the greatest 
 jokes imaginable. 
 
 It was generally a case of old-fashioned methods 
 being followed and of a refusal to pay attention to 
 suggestions. For instance one trainer, an Englishman, 
 had some American two-year-olds and one morning 
 he turned up with his long rein and whip. I told him 
 that they had already been broken but he shouted in 
 reply : 
 
 " They've got to be broken over again in the way 
 my father broke them, and," pointing to his son, " that 
 young feller over there when he grows up will do exactly 
 the same as I do. What is good for one generation 
 will be for another. Horses don't change." 
 
 112 
 
GEORGE BLACKWELL'S ABILITY 
 
 I used to get so bewildered with this kind of stupidity 
 that I had no words for argument and in this instance 
 I left it at that. But the hopeless ignorance in a 
 thousand ways of some could not help striking anyone 
 with any real experience. I am not saying that I was 
 such a superior judge, but looking back I do know 
 quite well that what I thought then and think now is 
 correct. 
 
 I could mention many trainers of the present day 
 — both English and American — who are really clever 
 men. I have always thought that of Englishmen 
 George Blackwell was right out by himself as a trainer. 
 We were only just acquainted so the statement can 
 be taken as being quite unprejudiced. His horses 
 used to be higher in flesh and brighter in coat after 
 real hard work — for he didn't spare them — than those 
 of anyone else I saw in England at that time. You 
 see a man may get famous on account of one or two 
 great horses he has turned out, but the true cleverness 
 consists in discovering horses. There's no reason why 
 there should not be a Galtee More every year — ^he 
 wants finding out ! 
 
 There are some trainers who would sooner make 
 twenty pounds on the cross than a hundred on the 
 level. I remember riding good winners for one man, 
 who unfortunately I cannot name although he had 
 practically first call on me, and I could never understand 
 why I didn't get a present. Owners used to look at me 
 in such a way that gradually I got the idea that they 
 were expecting me to thank them for something. 
 
 At all events that's how I read it afterwards. 
 But I never got a nickel. I know that trainer had 
 seven hundred and fifty pounds from one man to split 
 up with me. Yet they say that it is sinful for a jockey 
 to have a bet ! 
 
 H 113 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 John Dawson was a trainer who was very nice to me 
 both before and after I won the Manchester November 
 Handicap for Lord Ellesmere on Proclamation. I have 
 a souvenir Dawson gave me after I had w^on — some 
 cuff buttons. It was rather curious how I got that 
 mount. " Skeets " Martin, who was to have ridden, 
 was dying to get back to London and I was due to ride 
 the favourite who, however, went wrong at almost the 
 last moment. The day before the race was run 
 " Skeets," hearing that I was free, said to me, "You're 
 a lucky swine. I wish I could get out of my 
 mount too : he's a big outsider ; the going'll be 
 fearful." 
 
 " I'll ride him," I said, " if you get the trainer's 
 permission." John Dawson was willing enough ; he 
 seemed surprised that I would take it on. " Skeets " 
 was in great glee that he could go off that night to 
 London. There were twenty-two in the field and all 
 those who remember that afternoon will know that 
 the course was w^orse than usual. We went round in 
 a procession with Proclamation lying about eighth. 
 I was being clouted with mud until my two eyes were 
 nearly bunged up and I had to keep spitting it out of 
 my mouth, getting more and more like a nigger in 
 appearance all the time. I am sure I was a hundred 
 and twenty-five yards from the leader at one time but 
 I hung round the rails, although I was nearly put out 
 by a heavier clod than usual from the horse in front 
 of me. It isn't so much that the mud cakes are 
 " catapulted " at one, but one is going at a great speed 
 and actually running into what is coming at one at 
 a great pace too ! I held on anyhow, and managed to 
 bring up this three-year-old outsider — ^lie was carrying 
 7-7 — to win nicely. A lot of my friends got 33 to 
 1, so it was a pretty good wind-up to a season. He 
 
 114 
 
BYRON MACLELLAN 
 
 started at 25 to 1 and of course it was something for 
 the pubUc to remember me by till next year. 
 
 While on the subject of trainers I should like to say 
 that the greatest of all who lived in my time was Bjnron 
 MacLellan, now vmhappily dead. He could make a 
 good horse out of a donkey. He did more to found a 
 good school of trainers than any man known to the 
 world during the last fifty years. MacLellan came 
 from a good Kentucky family, and for the whole of his 
 life was associated with horses. He got to know their 
 disposition, studying them and, like some who suc- 
 ceeded him, believed in building up animals and 
 making allowance for different temperaments. He 
 would, if alive, have screamed at some of the wholesale 
 incompetency of many trainers having the charge of 
 horses to-day. By the way let me say that I am rather 
 nervous in laying down opinions so strongly, but I ask 
 myself, " What is the good of half saying a thing and 
 leaving the best part of it to guesswork ? " I am told 
 that it is easy to make a mistake. It is still more easy 
 to print a libel ! 
 
 What too would MacLellan have thought of what 
 you and I know has been done by many English owners 
 and trainers, and almost been boasted about, with 
 horses which they thought were useless or which after 
 early trials as yearlings they thought were no good. 
 Often such horses are taken out and shot so that they 
 should not lumber up the yard ! It is a sin, for some 
 of them have turned out most useful, and even great, 
 afterAvards. I could mention many instances where 
 horses showing nothing as yearlings proved them- 
 selves later on. I am reminded of this by what 
 my editor writes about Polar Star in Sharps, 
 Flats, Gamblers and Racehorses. Mr Hall Walker's 
 horse was so bad as a yearling that he was not left in 
 
 115 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 the Derby and was nearly gelded. Tlie great Colin in 
 America would not have been accepted as a present 
 when a yearling. 
 
 MacLellan wasn't like that : he would never give up 
 a horse in his very young days, neither would Wishard. 
 I put down Enoch Wishard as one of the best trainers 
 I have ever come in close touch with. He I believe 
 started life as a blacksmith in a town called Wellsville, 
 and from this town also came Duke, who at present 
 trains for Mr W. K. Vanderbilt; and John M'Graw, 
 the manager of the New York Baseball Club. 
 Enoch Wishard made a study of horses' feet from early 
 days before he took to training, and he followed this 
 up by always caring for their mouths. These certainly 
 are two of the greatest essentials when considering a 
 horse's chance of progressing in training. Fortunately 
 many trainers of the present day have given serious 
 attention to these matters, which one must say were 
 far too often neglected in the past. Wishard asked 
 regularly about the mouths of his charges and he would 
 never leave the care of their feet to anyone but himself. 
 Perhaps more than anyone else he has proved how a 
 man can reach the top of the trainer's calling owing 
 to observation and taking the trouble to think about 
 the disposition of his horses. 
 
 Wishard's by the way is a case that helps to prove 
 that there is very little heredity in training. Tell me 
 any great trainer whose son has proved as great a man 
 at the business as his father before him. Tlie talent 
 is supposed to " pass down," but that is sheer nonsense. 
 I do not think there are " born trainers " any more 
 than there are " born jockeys." Some jockeys may 
 have taken up riding through their fathers having been 
 at the game, but it doesn't follow for a moment that 
 they will achieve success. Take the list of all you can 
 
 ii6 
 
HOW HORSES WERE SHOD 
 
 ever remember : there are a few exceptions on the other 
 side but the vast majority goes to support what I 
 have said. 
 
 There is a good trainer in France, Eugene Leigh. 
 I am quite sure his father never saw a horse, and yet 
 what the son doesn't know about them is scarcely 
 worth learning. One thing is pretty certain, that if 
 the modern school of training had not been introduced 
 by W^ishard and a few of his contemporaries racing 
 would have remained where it was, and would have 
 been left to a few gamblers to control ! 
 
 When I first visited France I couldn't help noticing 
 how little horses were understood by some trainers. 
 In fact I was astounded. Purely from lack of care 
 were animals suffering from thrush and the foot 
 disease. The treatment was little luiderstood. Then 
 again hardly anything was known of a horse's mouth. 
 Tliey had then no implements for the floating and 
 decaping of horses' teeth, and it was only after some 
 persuasion I got them to procure these appliances. 
 Since then Joe Marsh has done a great deal in the way 
 of looking after horses' mouths. He is a witch doctor 
 with teeth. 
 
 Tlie shoes too worn by horses at that time weighed 
 from 1 lb. to Ij lbs. on each foot. Blacksmiths did 
 not even know how to trim properly the foot of a 
 race-horse, and when I got hot about it and recom- 
 mended the adoption of the American system the 
 Frenchmen thought it would be too big a change from 
 what had alwaj^s been the rule on the French turf. 
 France owes a great deal to American trainers. For- 
 tunately it can be said that many Anglo-Frenchmen 
 have had the sense to alter their methods. 
 
 The extraordinary changes brought in by Americans 
 caused the charge of doping being levelled against them. 
 
 117 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 One of the best horses I have seen in France, and one 
 in which the greatest change was effected, was Mauve- 
 zin, now at Lord Carnarvon's stud. I bought him out 
 of a selhng race for eleven thousand francs in 1901. 
 When he came to me he could not stay more than four 
 and a half furlongs. In little over a month he gained 
 nearly a htmdred lbs. in weight. Of course it will be 
 remembered that aftei*wards he won with big weights 
 in France, took the Stewards' Cup at Goodwood, and 
 proved a success at the stud. 
 
 Americans taught England a great deal about 
 horses' feet too. 
 
 ii8 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 ENGLAND AND AMERICA 
 
 Some American Trainers — Breaking my "Drum" — Rushing "on the 
 
 Road"— Talk "English" 
 
 In talking about English trainers I do not wish to be 
 charged with belittling some really good men. Many 
 trainers have had such extraordinary opportunities. 
 I believe a man like Harry Batho who trains at Alf riston 
 in Sussex might have been one of the most successful 
 of the English school had he been given the same 
 opportunities as the heads of what are known as 
 " aristocratic stables." Batho gets to know a horse, 
 and is clever in placing them too. 
 
 Mr George Lambton proved what he could do when 
 he had something good to deal with — and I really 
 mean this, for I have taken a good deal of notice of 
 what he has done in this respect. He will ask ques- 
 tions and, with Wootton perhaps, has been the most 
 progressive in recent years. Despite vast experience 
 he will listen to sound advice. 
 
 Some men in England would never take any tip at 
 all. For instance when I had that terrible fall on 
 Maluma in the Liverpool Cup which has been referred 
 to in a previous chapter, Robinson would run her 
 without plates. It was a terrible day, but he said she 
 had been used to nmning without shoes in Australia 
 and he supposed she would do her best without them 
 over here. The inevitable happened. As she was 
 barefooted I knew I was gone. It occurred round the 
 
 119 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 turn : she slipped sideways. I always think with 
 plates on that day she couldn't have lost. 
 
 Charles Morton would favour me by asking me 
 questions from time to time. If he didn't agree with 
 all my replies (and I didn't expect him to) still with 
 my experience and natural " horse sense " he often 
 found some pointer or other worth taking. Morton 
 is a man of ripe judgment. 
 
 The strokes that some trainers put across a jockey 
 are wicked sometimes. I remember riding an animal 
 in one of the big back-end handicaps. Before we 
 were off I knew I was on a dead 'un. It was a bit 
 maddening, and it was natural to feel furious on 
 returning to the paddock. 
 
 The trainer said to me, " She'll run better in a fort- 
 night," and gave me a look of intelligence. 
 
 " Not with me on," I replied. " I'm not going to 
 ride her." 
 
 He threatened to take me before the stewards but 
 — not a bit of it. 
 
 The same man sent me in a bill for £375 for bets, 
 a lot of it on the dead 'un I have just referred to, and 
 pressed me to pay him. 
 
 "All right," I wrote ; "I'm going to Weatherby's, 
 who keep all my accounts, and I'll get them to transfer 
 £375 for bets over to you, I suppose they'll ask me 
 what it's for." He had got me altogether for £1400 
 and he wrote to me, " For God's sake, don't say any- 
 thing at all about going to Weatherby's." That was 
 good enough for me, and there was never any reason to 
 give that claimed money another thought, for he had 
 put it across me. 
 
 Of the modern trainers the American Sam Hildreth, 
 who was over in France for a time and went back 
 when Mr Kohler died, has been a trainer of the highest 
 
 120 
 
SOME AMERICAN TRAINERS 
 
 merit, and I put him next to Wishard as Wishard was 
 in 1900. Then too Eugene Leigh and Tom Welch, both 
 now training in France, and Tom Healy in America, 
 I rank high. In France Michel Pantall is a really 
 clever man and has struck me as one conforming more 
 to the best accepted American methods. Wallace 
 Davis, who trains for Monsieur Picard, was, I think, as 
 good a trainer as any I have met. 
 
 As I have to write a book I feel it is necessary to give 
 these personal opinions, but I'd like to say again that 
 I put them down for what they are worth. They 
 may be valuable notes for those who read years ahead 
 some of the Turf history of my time. 
 
 One of the greatest trainers was James Rowe. He 
 was in a class all by himself in the older school, and 
 he adapted himself readily to the new conditions. He 
 had been one of America's crack jockeys before 
 beginning training. 
 
 James Rowe after he first retired from training 
 became a starter and was much respected for his 
 ability. Subsequently he trained again — for Mr James 
 R. Keene. It is interesting to recall one of my first 
 experiences with Mr Rowe. It was about the year 
 1892 or 1893 when I had come to New York with very 
 little confidence in my self and hardly any prospects. 
 There was a big race at Sheepshead Bay, and the 
 leading trainer at that time, Rogers, told me that I 
 could have the mount on his mare Lucania. I thought 
 he was trying to give me a chance and took it as a 
 great compliment, but I found out later that the truth 
 was there was no one else available at my weight. 
 We got down to the post and after one false break- 
 away I found that my girths were loose and begged 
 permission to tighten them. " My saddle has slipped, 
 Mr Rowe, can I fix it ?" I said. 
 
 121 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 Mr Rowe answered, " I'll fix you, you just get into 
 line ; don't you come that Western stuff on me." 
 
 Of course it was the old flag starting in those days. 
 Well, he tried to get us away, but there was another 
 false break. This time I was determined to try and 
 tighten up, so getting back to the post before the others 
 I turned Lucania's head the reverse way of the course 
 and lifting up my right leg got at the flap to tighten it. 
 Rowe seeing me do this, jumped down off his starting 
 platform and seized a whip with a long lash and coming 
 at the back of me let out. It caught me from one leg 
 across the back to the other making a great weal like 
 a horseshoe. He was so sore with me I could see and 
 — I was sore too. 
 
 When I got back after finishing second or third — 
 I am sure I should have won if the saddle had been 
 all right — I got hold of a lawyer and we laid an 
 information that evening to the police at Sheepshead 
 Bay. I showed the police the welt on my body which 
 looked as if it had been made with a half-inch rope. 
 
 Well, we began a lawsuit against Rowe and, despite 
 all sorts of people coming to me with offers to pay 
 a thousand or two thousand dollars instead of the 
 ten thousand I was claiming, I wouldn't hush it up, 
 for I stuck to my guns that he had no right to 
 hit me. 
 
 The action was still pending in the courts when, 
 going into the Casino Theatre in New York one 
 evening, who should walk in at the same moment but 
 Jimmy Rowe and his wife. They came across to me, 
 Rowe saying, " Hullo, Tod," and holding out his hand. 
 I took it and we all three chatted for a minute, no- 
 thing about the trouble though. I wouldn't sell that 
 case but after that I dropped it on my own accord 
 straight away. Truly I can say that no money would 
 
 122 
 
BREAKING MY DRUM 
 
 have squared it. Mr Rowe and I were splendid 
 friends afterwards and when he trained for Mr Keene 
 I could always be his first jockey when I was free and 
 we had many successes together. 
 
 Mr Rowe was kindness itself to me, especially when 
 I had rather a nasty accident and split the drum of 
 my ear. One day he asked : " Would you like to 
 ride Elkins ? I hardly like to ask you as he is not a 
 very pleasant horse ; he can run, but you'll have to 
 be careful of him : he is up to all sorts of tricks." 
 
 " That don't matter," I replied and they threw me 
 into the saddle. I was no sooner there than Elkins 
 jerked up his head, almost knocking me out and 
 altogether knocking me off the saddle. After which 
 he cleared the ground round him. Rowe wanted to 
 retire him, but I was round in a minute although in 
 great pain and I wouldn't hear of the horse not running, 
 and again they threw me into the saddle. All went 
 smoothly and I won by seventy or eighty yards. I 
 was in the hospital for some days after that : it took 
 a long time to dull the pain and make me sufficiently 
 fit to have an operation. 
 
 I wound up the season of 1898 having ridden in 
 three months forty-three winners. It was satisfactory 
 enough, and it was with a nice sum tucked away — 
 about ten thousand pounds — that I returned soon after 
 to New York, where the newspapers had a good deal 
 more to say about what I had done. 
 
 I felt rather odd on leaving England for America 
 once more. Many a time when I smoked a cigar on 
 the promenade deck in the morning, before the boys 
 were about, I would look forward to meeting many 
 of the old lot, whom I understood better and who, 
 perhaps, knew me better than many of my new English 
 friends, but I had it in my mind in that end of 1898 
 
 123 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 and beginning of 1899 that I would sooner have been in 
 London fighting over certain races which I had won 
 and lost, than be in New York. I had to answer so 
 many questions ! Some of them sounding so curious. 
 People who did not know England a bit, nor the 
 conditions of English racing, were very odd. The 
 majority of the queries put to me were as to how this, 
 that and the other backer had got on, what they had 
 won and how far they had taken the knock " playing 
 the races." The more delicate and interesting phases 
 of the racing game were not inquired into. Certainly 
 old friends among trainers used to ask me what they 
 did in England under certain conditions but, I am 
 afraid that generally I did not tell them exactly what 
 they wanted to know, for I was determined not to 
 criticise English methods — then. 
 
 Certainly it seemed strange to be back in New York. 
 I suppose I was getting a bit Europeanised or some- 
 thing. I know I could not quite take the interest in 
 some of the matters which I used to think were the 
 beginning and end of everything. 
 
 It was curious to compare New York with London. 
 I had heard that many Americans, and Australians 
 too, had come to England and had drawn contrasts 
 between everything which they had seen in London 
 and which at first they didn't like and what they were 
 used to at home. I confess that had been a little of 
 my own idea when I went back after the 1897 season. 
 An American may long to return if he has accom- 
 plished something ; if he has not he is likely to have 
 only one idea : to go home and bury himself. But 
 when I returned at the end of 1898 things began to 
 seem a bit different ; it was the life around town which 
 bothered me. In some ways it seemed so much 
 brighter in New York but at times I seemed drawn 
 
 124 
 
RUSHING ON THE ROAD 
 
 towards what I had just left. I had more chances of 
 social life in London ; there seemed a sort of domestic 
 touch even about a rubber of bridge in a private room 
 at an hotel. I used to be asked out a good deal ; it 
 gave quite a change to the daily life. Of course I had 
 a lot of old friends in New York who would offer me 
 the same hospitality, but it was what I had just 
 become accustomed to which I hankered after. 
 
 Then again, the theatres didn't seem quite so com- 
 fortable. Going out to the play in London was more 
 like going to a party. Everyone looked so well turned 
 out and I used to enjoy the intervals between the acts 
 when we could talk over different things, and I had 
 time to smoke quite a quarter of a cigar in the lobby. 
 The plays were better, or appealed to me more, in 
 New York, but the whole surroundings of the theatre 
 were more attractive in the London I had just left. 
 
 On the other hand there were many things in 
 England that I could have done without, as I discovered 
 when I got back. Rushing about all over the country 
 for instance for three days or two days here, and 
 another day or two there. It seemed to be like being 
 " on the road " in a one-night-stand company. All 
 American trainers who have settled in England have 
 disliked this. It is so different from America where 
 one races two or three weeks at one place and then 
 moves on to another. At Saratoga for instance they 
 raced continuously for nearly three weeks, and in the 
 good times many horses were trained with the others 
 of the string which perhaps were not intended to be 
 run at that meeting at all. 
 
 Other Americans' experiences have been very similar 
 to mine — the longing to rush back " home," a mild 
 desire to come to Europe again and then a great 
 regret to leave England or France, and then, eventu- 
 
 125 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 ally, the feeling that after all Europe was the only 
 place to live in. One American jockey, Danny Maher, 
 has even become a naturalised Englishman, and many 
 other Americans might do the same, but they are 
 slack and won't take the trouble about the papers. 
 However, personally I always had the feeling that if 
 I lived and died in Europe — ^as I suppose I shall — 
 nothing would make me change my citizenship of the 
 United States, although I suppose I have just as many 
 friends and acquaintances British as American, and 
 throughout my career I have had as many kindnesses 
 from one nation as from the other. 
 
 Belgians and Frenchmen, too, were also very friendly 
 to me as far as I could judge ; and I think I know 
 now (although of course at first it was very difficult 
 for me to form an estimate not knowing a word of the 
 language, and not attempting the sort of pigeon English 
 that some do). I suppose I have a certain knowledge 
 of French to-day. Talking of pigeon English I think 
 " Boots " Durnell, who I brought over to France and 
 who is now training for the King of Roumania, was 
 about the funniest guy I ever saw or heard when he 
 first attempted to make himself understood in France. 
 From the very moment he arrived at Boulogne he 
 began to imitate what he thought French people 
 spoke ; and after about a week he had got together 
 certain sentences and a way of gesticulating which 
 was all his own. It was in an attempt to speak to 
 Charron first that he came out in his glory. 
 
 This is a specimen : " You see, Monsieur, zat ze leg 
 of ze horse vich is swawlen and vot I do wis him zis 
 after midi is to take ze ombrohcarshon in mon hands 
 and zen I rube 'im until he gets veil." 
 
 When he got one or two more French words in his 
 head he would shrug his shoulders every other moment, 
 
 126 
 
TALK ENGLISH 
 
 hold his hands up, cast his eyes down, shake hands 
 with his left hand and always pretend that he couldn't 
 speak English — and certainly he was getting out of it. 
 One day Baron Leonino came to the stable and 
 " Boots " started on him. I saw the Baron's face 
 begin to broaden into a smile when " Boots " said, 
 " Ze gallop your cheval has done zis matin is ze 
 fastest by ze watch we 'ave 'ad for quelques jours. 
 'E 'as eat up and 'e is as fit as a violin." Then Baron 
 Leonino said, " Now suppose you tell me all this in 
 English," and I chipped in, " Why the something, some- 
 thing, don't you tell the gentleman exactly what has 
 happened ? " 
 
 He got some of the stable hands into the way of 
 talking too, and when the shopkeepers and Frenchmen 
 who supplied us with things couldn't understand them 
 *' Boots" said 'they were fools who didn't understand 
 their own language. 
 
 127 
 
CHAPTER XVII 
 
 KNIGHT OF THE THISTLE 
 
 The " Lincolnshire "—Good Horse's Bad Moments— At Home in England 
 
 The winter of 1898-1899 brought about the usual 
 incidents : visits here and there in America ; meetings 
 with many old friends and the introduction to new 
 ones, especially those connected with the prize ring 
 and the world of sport, some of whom I shall have 
 occasion to refer to in later chapters. I had always 
 of course to bear in mind that I was due back to ride 
 for Lord William in the early spring. In fact I heard 
 at the end of January that I was required to ride Knight 
 of the Thistle in the Lincolnshire Handicap. This 
 horse was trained by Huggins, who had bought him 
 for an American sportsman named L. O. Appleby. 
 Two years before, when a four-year-old, he had won 
 the Royal Hunt Cup carrying 7-5 and had figured 
 prominently in other races. I knew little or nothing 
 about him but was told by letter that I had a real good 
 chance of winning the first important race of the 
 season. They sent me cuttings from English news- 
 papers — the handicap, and what certain English 
 sporting writers thought about the prospects of the 
 race. 
 
 I had heard of Knight of the Thistle, for of course 
 there was always the usual " horse talk " every 
 evening and during the day — but, by the way, we would 
 frequently, my friends and I, break away entirely 
 from turf topics and switch on to other things, especi- 
 
 128 
 
THE LINCOLNSHIRE 
 
 ally fights, the theatres, and — well, something not 
 four-legged. I kept receiving letters in the early 
 part of March reminding me exactly when the Lincoln- 
 shire Handicap was. Some of them I didn't even 
 reply to, but I did send cables to Lord William and to 
 Huggins to say that I was sailing on a certain date. 
 I had timed it to a nicety, reckoning that I could 
 arrive at Southampton and that I could get to Lincoln 
 for the big race. There was no trouble in crossing, but 
 I imagine they were rather upset when I didn't turn 
 up on the opening day of the season. I was there in 
 good time on the Tuesday. 
 
 They told me exactly what my 9 to 1 chance was 
 likely to do. There would be a big field — in fact 
 twenty ran, a larger muster than there had been for a 
 few years previously. I hadn't been on Knight of the 
 Thistle, as I have explained, but I admired the horse 
 when I saw him and I liked him still better when he 
 swung down to the post with me. But at the post 
 I found out what a devil he was at the start. He was 
 a very actor before he began his business, in fact a 
 mean sort of horse, and I had any amount of trouble 
 with him. 
 
 Lord William had said to me before the race : " Are 
 you fit ? " 
 
 I answered, " Yes." 
 
 " Have you been doing any riding ? " 
 
 " Yes, in hansom cabs," and I added that I didn't 
 intend to change my methods for I always did well 
 when starting off a season. 
 
 " W^ell, there you are ; if you think you are all right 
 I suppose you ar^." 
 
 To make a long story short, " The Knight " fiddled 
 me about at the post, where we were for some time 
 with the wind blowing colder even than I had experi- 
 I 129 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 enced it in America. Ultimately he got going with 
 me and at one time I thought I might have a chance 
 of winning, but General Peace, a real nice horse who 
 was receiving 13 lb. — a big difference considering the 
 class — beat me. Of course I was disappointed, and 
 although Lord William didn't say so at the time I am 
 quite certain that he was of the opinion, then and 
 afterwards too, that had I been over and riding 
 gallops and become a little more acclimatised, I should 
 have won it. Charlie Mills, who had done the greater 
 part of the commission, was of the same opinion, and 
 didn't hesitate to say so to others, but I state with 
 perfect confidence that there was nothing lost in 
 fitness and jockeyship that day. If there had been 
 it might as well go down here at once. What made 
 them firmer in their convictions was that after that 
 day at Lincoln I had caught such a chill right across 
 my kidneys and back that I hesitated about riding at 
 Liverpool at the end of the week ; in fact I was knocked 
 right out. But I went on to Liverpool all the same, 
 intending to ride but feeling like nothing on earth. 
 Much against my rule I had to take a glass of brandy 
 at Lincoln before my dinner and determined to see 
 what a rest for a day would do. But it was no good 
 and I had to stay in bed in my apartment and think 
 all the time what I might have done had I been 
 riding. It was the weather which had crocked me up 
 and nothing else, for I had felt quite fit when crossing 
 the ocean and also entirely myself when getting in the 
 saddle for that race. Next day I went to Liverpool but 
 there was nothing else to do but to shiver and sweat 
 while somebody brought me in the results of the races 
 and came in the evening and discussed what had 
 occurred. Of course it made me feel as if I could get 
 out of bed and take my chance the next day, but it was 
 
 130 
 
GOOD HORSE'S BAD MOMENTS 
 
 lucky for me — so the doctor told me — that I did keep 
 quiet until I was able to go back to London on the 
 Sunday and creep between the blankets at the Cecil 
 for another day or two. When I was about and was 
 riding as usual of course I heard all the talk over 
 again about what I should have done if I had been 
 fit — and so on and so on. 
 
 It appears that Huggins had bought Knight of the 
 Thistle for Appleby as a type of an old-fashioned 
 high-class English race-horse. It was Huggins' own 
 judgment, and in this instance he was absolutely 
 correct, for on his day this animal was one of the best 
 I ever rode. He behaved badly at the post but he 
 was as game as he could be. On his day of days he 
 could have beaten anything, classic or otherwise, and 
 such he proved when I won the Jubilee on him some 
 weeks later from Greenan and Lord Edward II., 
 who had finished behind him in the Lincolnshire. Mr 
 Arthur Coventry had all sorts of trouble with him 
 at the post. Even on that day he had certain peculi- 
 arities, for he was getting a bit " stalliony " — I will 
 not say savage. 
 
 Both he and Santoi, who will be mentioned later, 
 had their very bad moments and it was always the 
 most interesting part of my work to try and find out 
 what was really the matter with them. No one ever 
 seems to have gauged the exact disposition of a horse, 
 but I never ceased trying to " know " animals which 
 had bad characters. They are really blamed some- 
 times for " cussedness " when it is not altogether their 
 own fault. It may be stomach trouble, their teeth, 
 or their feet. From the many thousands of horses I 
 have ridden, my own personal impression is that there 
 is no trouble without a cause. I sometimes begin to 
 think that the real cause may be too much in-breeding, 
 
 131 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 bringing about an extraordinary temperament, just 
 as in human beings lunacy can be the result of 
 marriages in the same family. As a matter of fact 
 no one will ever make me think differently. I don't 
 know whether a greater study of the thoroughbred 
 will ever exactly enable men to know horses and get 
 such remedies for various troubles as to make a 
 perfectly tractable animal, but it is to be done ; I 
 am convinced of it. 
 
 After the start for that Jubilee I never had the 
 slightest doubt about the result and for weeks after, in 
 fact months after, I can remember discussing the 
 horse which Huggins had been fortunate enough to 
 acquire, and which America was lucky enough to have 
 afterwards as a sire horse. If someone had only got 
 exactly to know what was the matter with Knight of 
 the Thistle I am sure that he could have carried any 
 weights and beaten the very best in training. Many 
 who read this will remember all about him, and those 
 who were connected with his early training may have 
 something more to say than I have. In the Hunt 
 Cup later (in 1899) he carried 9-2 and I finished third 
 on him behind the mighty Eager, and a three-year-old, 
 Refractor, who was only putting up 6-3. By the way 
 there was a Scottish firm who after the Jubilee started 
 a new brand of whisky called the Ivnight of the 
 Thistle Blend and sent me a big quantity of it, some 
 of which I gave away and the rest — well, I drank it 
 myself. 
 
 I am not going into all the races which I rode in 
 between the Lincolnshire and the Jubilee and then 
 on to the big events at Epsom and Ascot, but I shall 
 dip into my memory where something of more im- 
 portance than usual suggests itself. I was doing as 
 well as in the two previous autumns ; I had made 
 
 132 
 
'*=*-# 
 
 Beaten on Caiman by Flying Fox 
 
 Nevjniarket First S/>ring Meeting, iSqq 
 
 Winning the Jriiii.EE on Knight of the Thistle 
 
 Kempt on Park, iSgg 
 
AT HOME IN ENGLAND 
 
 plenty of new friends and was learning more of 
 England ; in fact I was getting thoroughly at home 
 in the country I knew so well afterwards, and on the 
 continent in which I was to eventually make my 
 home. There was of course any number of Americans 
 over to follow me and others, and I could not blame 
 them if occasionally they were a little bit too patriotic, 
 for the luck of the American riders seemed to be in 
 the ascendant. I had plenty of invitations to ride, 
 and of course my friends helped me considerably in 
 getting me mounts. Time and again I would not 
 know what I was to be up on during the following 
 week but at the end I always found I had added many 
 notches to my score, and as the figures got better and 
 better so was extra confidence given to me and to 
 those who employed me. As the sun got warmer too, 
 I began to feel that fitness which the trying wind of 
 the spring had dried up. 
 
 133 
 
CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 HOLOCAUST 
 
 Engaged for Holocaust— Flying Fox delays Start— WTiat Charles Hawtrey 
 
 missed 
 
 Of course up to this time I had never had a chance 
 either of riding in the Derby, or of seeing it, for 
 previously no summer had been spent in England. 
 The circumstances which led up to my getting the 
 mount on Holocaust are, briefly, that my friend 
 Charles Hawtrey and Miss Fanny Ward had been over 
 in France and had seen Holocaust run in I think the 
 French Derby. My name had been mentioned by 
 one or the other or both to M. de Bremond who owned 
 the grey. He was interested and although it was 
 stated tliat Watkins, a French jockey, was to ride him, 
 I was told that I might get the mount, and that M. 
 de Bremond, who was staying at the Savoy, would see 
 me if I went there. I only heard this in the evening 
 when I was sitting down to dinner. Hurrying over 
 this meal I went from the Cecil next door to the 
 Savoy and asked for the French owner. 
 
 I was shown into the entrance to the restaurant and 
 M. de Bremond came out to meet me. He looked at 
 me as I stood before him in tail coat, white waistcoat 
 and tie and a silk hat and then he glanced over my 
 head as if looking for someone, saying : 
 
 " Where is Sloan ? Bring him in here ! " 
 
 " / am Sloan," I said. 
 
 " Oh, are you ? I hear you'd like to ride my horse 
 to-morrow." 
 
 134 
 
ENGAGED FOR HOLOCAUST 
 
 The only reply I could think of was : " Yes, I'll 
 ride him all right, if you like." 
 
 He thought for a moment. 
 
 " Well you can, that's arranged, eh ? You've 
 never seen him ; that doesn't matter, for I hear there 
 are many winners you have ridden which you have 
 never seen. He's a nice sort of horse ; whether he 
 can win or not I don't know. There's Flying Fox of 
 course, and that's enough without mentioning the 
 others in the race." 
 
 I listened attentively and when he mentioned Flying 
 Fox I was quite of his opinion that the big colt was 
 enough to think of without worrying about the rest 
 of them. M. de Bremond stopped a little while 
 talking to me, both of us standing up, and added : 
 " Well I'll see you at Epsom to-morrow." 
 
 The news got about through one and the other 
 that night but there was not much business done 
 since everyone was Flying Fox mad. In fact there 
 were thousands of pounds laid on him that evening 
 at 2 to 1 and 9 to 4 on — he started at 5 to 2 on. In a 
 previous chapter I have mentioned what a great horse 
 the favourite was and even though I had confidence 
 that my recently found mount would do well from 
 what I had heard of him, still I couldn't pretend that 
 I had any serious idea on that previous evening that 
 I could win. All the same it was nice to have a ride 
 with any kind of chance in a race I had heard and 
 read so much about. In America even those who do 
 not follow English racing results will always read 
 anything about the Derby, the greatest race in the 
 world. I know that 7 did, and I often found others 
 doing so. American owners and breeders too always 
 had the ambition to have an entry in the English 
 Derby, and the prospects would be discussed a long 
 
 135 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 time in advance. Some of the American papers would 
 come out with big stories about the history of the race, 
 and all that sort of stuff. I used to devour them 
 when in a racing stable in early days with just as much 
 keenness as I would read about Sullivan, Jackson and 
 all the big fellows in the prize-ring. Therefore, when 
 I met my friends that night it was with some pride 
 that I stated I was to ride the grey Frenchman in the 
 Derby. 
 
 I went to bed with the same sort of feeling, not a 
 bit excited yet feeling that I had something to do the 
 next day. Perhaps one more personal note might 
 be made here. If I had been engaged weeks before 
 to ride the favourite I might have felt exactly the 
 same. For those who don't know, it may be said 
 that one mount is very like another to a jockey. Of 
 course I have known some men get very nervous when 
 a big thing is at stake, but after all a ride is a ride and 
 the excitement can be just as great in a selling race 
 as in what is called a classic race in England. At all 
 events that is the way I look at it. I am reminded 
 by my Editor that the late Anglo-French jockey 
 Tommy Lane who rode against me on Perth III. 
 when I won the Ascot Gold Cup on Merman was of 
 the worrying kind, and I have known others among 
 Englishmen who felt pretty well the same. I suppose, 
 however, that we Americans somehow or other are 
 colder - blooded propositions. At all events I have 
 never known Lester or Johnny Reiff or Danny Maher 
 not being able to sleep or take their food through 
 having a big thing to think of the next day — unless 
 they had to waste, of course. 
 
 But to get to the story of the Derby. I had never 
 seen Holocaust, as I have explained, and I caught the 
 first glimpse of him when arriving in the paddock with 
 
 136 
 
FLYING FOX DELAYS START 
 
 the other boys. I was very pleased with the look of 
 him and I told M. de Bremond so. But he didn't 
 want to know much about that. He had backed the 
 horse and he said to me, what I already knew, that " I 
 had to beat Flying Fox." 
 
 He laughed a little and I smiled back at him, saying 
 something to the effect that one never knew the luck 
 of it. 
 
 Well, we went down to the post and it was here that 
 I began to think a great deal more of my chance, for 
 Holocaust stood as quiet as a sheep during those five 
 false starts which I have already spoken of, wherein 
 Flying Fox went a quarter of a mile to three furlongs 
 after every breakaway. Yes, I was just tickled to 
 death with the grey ; he was beautifully behaved — 
 as quiet and good-natured a horse as I had ever been on. 
 
 At last at the sixth attempt we were off. We went 
 up the hill to the top and raced down to Tattenham 
 corner. I was a neck in front of Flying Fox and to 
 my delight saw that Momy had got his whip out 
 on the favourite. Before that I hadn't really the 
 remotest idea of actually beating him, and anyhow 
 I should have had no pretensions to do so if it hadn't 
 been for those false starts. I got Morny on the rails 
 and I was going as easily as possible whereas Flying 
 Fox got the stick again. 
 
 We crossed the Tan road and had only about a 
 furlong and a half to go, with Flying Fox well beaten 
 by this time and Holocaust not having been called 
 on for any effort at all. Suddenly something 
 happened — I thought I had been cut into. There was 
 a shock, and it was as much as I could do to keep in 
 my saddle. The poor beggar rolled from side to side 
 but he didn't come down as many have asserted that 
 he did. Of course he eased up very soon to a walk. 
 
 137 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 He was a horrible sight with his leg broken off short ; 
 in fact the stump was sticking in the ground. How 
 he had gone on for even that extra hundred and twenty 
 yards I don't know. But a horse with his blood up 
 will stick to it without apparently feeling anything. 
 When I got off his back he began munching the 
 grass ! 
 
 I was terribly upset at the sight of the poor beast, 
 and it is beyond question — ^and future generations 
 should believe me when I say this — that I was never 
 more certain then or now that I had another horse 
 positively beaten than I was that day about Flying 
 Fox. There wouldn't have been a close finish even ; 
 for, as I have said, I was going so easily, and there 
 was any amount left in M. de Bremond's horse. 
 
 What followed is well known, the poor grey was 
 destroyed in a quiet field soon after. 
 
 M. de Bremond took it all in a very sporting spirit 
 and agreed with others that it was the most extra- 
 ordinary accident imaginable. It was natural for 
 Morny to think that he could have won, for Flying 
 Fox was such a wonderful horse and would struggle 
 on to the end. But there are limits even to what a 
 great horse can do, especially when he had gone well 
 over a mile before the start had taken place and 
 that quite apart from getting back to the post each 
 time. Morny and I talked it over many times after- 
 wards. 
 
 Perhaps it would have been a shame if the better 
 horse, Flying Fox, had been beaten, but still that is 
 all in the luck of the game. Certainly it was a disaster 
 that M. de Bremond should lose an animal who would 
 have been worth twenty thousand pounds if he had 
 not broken his leg. 
 
 Mr John Porter told his friends that he had never 
 
 138 
 
WHAT CHARLES HAWTREY MISSED 
 
 any doubt about the eventual result except once. 
 He had trained the horse and knew him by heart. 
 
 There wasn't a great amount of money lost by the 
 American division nor a vast amount by the French, 
 but the price, with Flying Fox starting at 5 to 2 on, 
 would have given a splendid return if only Holocaust 
 had won. There never was a Derby I heard more 
 discussed, and the arguments as to what would have 
 happened had not the accident occurred never seemed 
 to end. I was often referred to, but with the exception 
 of telling M. de Bremond and one or two intimate 
 friends, I never thought it worth going over hour after 
 hour and day after day. It might have appeared, if 
 I had given the opinion emphatically in print as I 
 am doing now, that I was conceited enough to think 
 that I could win on " anything " — and I was anxious 
 not to have too many unpleasant little things attributed 
 to me ! But — just once more — it was 10 to 1 my 
 beating Flying Fox after the incidents at the post. 
 This is repetition I know. But I will add yet again 
 in a different phrase that it was 20 ^o 1 against my 
 beating him if we had got away at the first attempt. 
 I want to emphasise everything I have said in 
 praise about the great son of Orme in a previous 
 chapter. 
 
 I dare say that Charles Hawtrey may sometimes 
 wake up in the middle of the night and think of what 
 he would have won over Holocaust, and he has a 
 right to. His judgment was so right in thinking he 
 had put me on to a good thing. M. de Bremond was 
 not sorry that he had put me up although it was a 
 disastrous start in his colours. 
 
 I had at one time one or two good pictures of the 
 principal horses in that Derby parading round the 
 paddock before the race, but I put them away some 
 
 139 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 years ago and have never looked at them since. It is 
 the ambition of every jockey to win a Derby, and that 
 I had the chance of doing so at the first attempt is 
 almost too much to chew over. However — who 
 knows ? I am not dead yet ! 
 
 140 
 
CHAPTER XIX 
 
 FLYING FOX AND CAIMAN 
 
 The Tragedy of Sibola — Beaten by "Temper" 
 
 Flying Fox showed in the Two Tliousand Guineas 
 what a horse Caiman was. Of course I knew a long 
 time before that Lord Wilham and Huggins had hopes 
 of Caiman proving a top-sawyer, but I've said ah-eady 
 that I never held any view about him except that he 
 was a good class selling plater. Still, he was backed 
 by the American division and in the race I did do all I 
 could to get a surprise run away from the big horse. 
 In the event Morny won as he liked. He wasn't going 
 to be slipped as he was in the Middle Park Plate the 
 year before. 
 
 Caiman and Flying Fox were to meet again in the 
 St Leger. We ran two. Disguise II. being the other. 
 Lord William had never lost confidence in Cairnan, 
 and I got " Skeets " Martin to take the mount on the 
 second string. He demurred a bit at first at the idea 
 of riding the one who was to do the donkey work, but 
 in the end it was arranged. Then I went to Lord 
 William and asked him to give me permission to ride 
 any way I chose and to let me tell Martin what he was 
 to do. Huggins was averse from leaving it all to me, 
 but eventually Lord William talked him over. To 
 hear Huggins speak about Caiman anyone would 
 have thought that he had already beaten Flying Fox. 
 Of course / knew that it would be by the biggest bit of 
 luck if he did. The Duke of Westminster's colt had 
 
 141 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 improved enormously. He had broadened and was 
 stronger — looking beyond the usual development when 
 I saw him in the Two Thousand, and I knew he had 
 gone on in the right way up to Doncaster. 
 
 There was only one thing for it, to try and devise 
 some plan that should do in the favourite — of course 
 I mean something that came within the rules of racing. 
 I arranged with Martin to stay with me the night be- 
 fore the race so that I might tell him what I thought. 
 My plan, to which he listened very carefully, was for 
 Disguise to lay alongside of Flying Fox to the turn for 
 home. Martin was to " cluck " to his horse very 
 frequently, not to shake him up but just to keep him 
 going by making a noise with the tongue against the 
 roof of the mouth as loud as he could. " Keep him 
 head and head, Skeets," I said, "and after the turn if 
 I holler out to you ' Go on,' then pull out to the right 
 and let me through on Caiman ; but if I shout to you 
 ' Pull out,' you'll know I'm beaten and you must do 
 what you can." 
 
 We had a very good start and Martin on Disguise II. 
 did exactly what had been arranged. You could 
 have heard his " clucking " yards away. Every time 
 he let out the sound Flying Fox would jump yards, 
 pulling Morny's arms out of their sockets. I can tell 
 you he was furious during the race and he didn't forget 
 to tell Martin so after it was all over. Well, we got 
 near the turn and rounded it with Caiman going 
 easily. As arranged I shouted, "Go on, Skeets I " 
 But Martin was an actor who had forgotten his cue. 
 Instead of pulling out he kept on, and I was on his heels 
 instead of getting the opening to keep Cannon on the 
 rails. Of course any chance of pulling off the un- 
 expected was at an end. I had to go on the outside 
 and although I just headed the big horse two hundred 
 
 142 
 
In King Edward's Colours 
 
 Autumn, iSqq 
 
THE TRAGEDY OF SIBOLA 
 
 yards from home he then went away from me as easily 
 as possible. 
 
 There was just a possibility that if Martin had done 
 as we had arranged I might have stolen the race, for 
 with one sharp run from the turn through a clear space 
 I might have got a lead of Morny which he couldn't 
 have made up in the time. Still, as I have said, far 
 and away the best horse won the race and neither 
 Lord William nor Huggins disapproved of my tactics. 
 They didn't come off, that's all, but Morny I fancy 
 will never forget the way the winner fought him every 
 time Skeets " clucked." I laughed then and I can 
 laugh now at the way he pitched into Martin. In that 
 last burst of speed of Flying Fox's it wasn't so much 
 that Morny called to him, but that directly he saw 
 Caiman the horse knew all about it and raced away from 
 him altogether on his own. I believe that if we hadn't 
 run two strings in that race Caiman wouldn't have been 
 in the first three even, and that is emphatic enough. 
 I rousted Skeets but he answered, " You called ' Go on ! ' 
 and I went on " — and what was the good of arguing ! 
 
 In the Spring I had ridden Sibola home a winner in 
 the One Thousand ; she was not a high-class mare but 
 a nicish sort. I was riding with such confidence that I 
 believe that there must have been a certain amount of 
 it transferred to the mounts I had. Tlie successes I 
 had were certainly remarkable. Musa ran third in the 
 One Tliousand and was destined to just beat me in 
 the Oaks, but I shall always put it down to my own 
 fault and temper that I lost that race at Epsom. I 
 ought to have won it with a good margin in hand. As 
 it was, many think that Sibola did win — but the judge 
 didn't. She was a 7 to 4 on favourite and when I 
 went down to the paddock before the race Lord 
 Charles Beresford was standing with Lord William. 
 
 143 
 
(( 
 (( 
 
 TOD SLOAN 
 
 He said to me : 
 
 " I never bet but I've come down here to see Sibola 
 win and to put five pounds on her." Then he looked 
 me straight in the eye. 
 
 I'll win all right, my lord," I replied. 
 Mind you do," he snapped, and gave me another 
 glance. 
 
 Lord William was rather amused when I added : 
 " And you can have a bit more on too if you like." 
 
 We got to the post and there were three or four 
 false breaks. I must admit that I was trying to beat 
 the starter and he didn't half give it to me for what I 
 was doing. At last he let them go with me not ready 
 and left standing. I was mad with rage and in my 
 furious temper I did what I had always told young 
 boys never to attempt. It was the worst race I ever 
 rode in my life and never shall I forgive myself for 
 allowing my vexation to overcome my better judgment. 
 / made up all the lost ground going up the hill, and when 
 I got to the top Sibola was a tired mare. I ought to 
 have allowed a mile to recover the distance I had lost 
 at the post ; then we couldn't have lost. Certainly I 
 got a steadier at her a little time afterwards, and 
 Madden on Musa and I rode a desperate finish. 
 
 After we passed the post and got down to the 
 paddock to turn back to scale Madden said to me, 
 " I think you won it, Tod," and I was sure I had. We 
 were both surprised when Musa's number was seen 
 in the frame. There seemed a fate against me that 
 day — at least the mood I was in made me think so. 
 First the starter and then the judge. However, one 
 mustn't think too much of the ideas formed at a time 
 like that. Anyhow I am telling this story all against 
 myself, making no excuses at all. 
 
 Lord Charles altered towards me after that. It 
 
 144 
 
y 
 
 is 
 
 o ? 
 
 
BEATEN BY TEIVIPER 
 
 wasn't the loss of the five pounds, but what I suppose 
 annoyed him was that I had been so cocky about my 
 certainty of winning. I saw him several times after- 
 wards but he never relaxed. Even once in Chicago 
 when I called on him when he was passing through he 
 was as cold as can be. I deserved it I suppose, and 
 I wonder Lord William took it so well. The whole 
 cause of my losing that race is summarised in one word, 
 
 TEMPER. 
 
 Morny Cannon was having a rare good time that 
 year, for besides winning three classic races he had taken 
 the Great Yorkshire Handicap on Calveley, the City 
 and Suburban with Newhaven II., and a lot more. 
 His score for that season was a hundred and twenty 
 wins. For a long time we got on very well together. 
 But the new style of riding passed him by for he could 
 never be induced to adopt the forward seat. He need 
 not have ridden very short to have accomplished this. 
 I would repeat that it was quite a false idea that I rode 
 very short : that was left to those who followed me. 
 
 Fred Rickaby, a first-class rider, used to come out 
 and take pointers from me ; what I mean to say is he 
 was not above doing so, just as I would have done had 
 it been to my advantage. Sam Loates was quick to 
 take anything too and Madden was a hustling rider 
 who I always had to look out for. In fact Madden 
 took as much shaking off as any of those I rode against 
 in 1899. He topped the list with a hundred and thirty 
 wins. 
 
 K 
 
 145 
 
CHAPTER XX 
 
 JOCKEYS AND JOCKEYSHIP 
 
 Johnny Reiff 's Start — Sam and Tom Loates — Thrifty Jockeys 
 
 I HAVE often been asked who in my opinion were the 
 best jockeys I ever saw and I have no hesitation what- 
 ever in saying that of the old school Harry Griffin, the 
 American jockey (I have explained I took a tip from 
 him when inventing my own style), was never ap- 
 proached. He was the division between the old order 
 of things and the new. It isn't that I was more easily 
 impressed then, but going back years I am confident 
 that he was far and away the greatest. 
 
 The next to Griffin and of the present school was 
 Lester Reiff, and his was really an extraordinary 
 career. In California he was actually put aside for 
 incompetency, and with many others I could only 
 agree with the action of the Stewards for he couldn't 
 do anything right. He was a good stableman, and 
 Wishard believed in him so much that he brought him 
 over to England with his younger brother, Johnny. 
 Lester was quite a failure on English courses to begin 
 with, but then suddenly he began to develop an 
 entirely new style, and when he adopted this the 
 difference was astounding. He was the best rider of 
 his time I ever rode against ; in fact he was simply 
 wonderful, as his record in England shoAvs so unmis- 
 takably. He had no trouble in topping the list in 
 1900, and deserved every bit of his success. He made 
 fewer mistakes than any of us, and was alert, would 
 
 146 
 
Lestfr Rkiff 
 
 From S/>y's caricntiii-e in '" Vanity Fair," IQOO 
 
JOHNNY REIFF'S START 
 
 take chances, and for his years was a rare good judge 
 of form. It was a great pity when he quitted race 
 riding. 
 
 Johnny Reiff was quite a little kid when he came 
 over with his brother. He couldn't have weighed more 
 than 4 st. 6 lbs., being then about thirteen years old. 
 He was such an infant that some of the jockeys used 
 to complain about his being allowed to ride ; they were 
 afraid of hurting him. Nevertheless he kept on, and 
 with the mounts he got rode twenty-seven winners in 
 1899, and a hundred and twenty-four in 1900 — making 
 him third to Lester Reiff and Sam Loates. 
 
 Soon after he arrived in England I went out to see 
 him at Wishard's place near Newmarket and found 
 him in his knickerbockers by the porch of the house 
 playing with some kittens. He seemed such a baby, 
 and I watched him before I took one or two of them 
 from him, for I share with him the immense love for 
 cats. Johnny liked to hear me talk and used to ask 
 me different things, which I told him freely, but the kid 
 had already any number of ideas of his own, was a born 
 rider and had developed it with his own intelligence. 
 \A^iat I mean to say by " born " is not going against 
 what I have said previously about heredity, but 
 Johnny had the instinct for jockeyship, and from 
 every gallop and race he rode in he seemed to learn 
 something. Wishard was very proud of him. He 
 was proud of Lester too, especially when the latter 
 began to show what he could do. Of course Johnny 
 moulded himself a little on what his brother had 
 changed to. Yes indeed, Lester was without an equal 
 during those two or three years. 
 
 It was in 1899 that I cabled over to J. H. Martin to 
 come to England. I told " Skeets " I thought he would 
 do very well as he had ridden for me over there, and he 
 
 147 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 wasn't very happy through various causes in America 
 at the time. He arrived, but didn't seem to shake 
 down in his new surroundings very quickly. He got 
 mounts, however, and when I was reported by Mr 
 Arthur Coventry for alleged disobedience at Sandown 
 Park, and the local stewards sent the case to the 
 Stewards of the Jockey Club, Martin got another chance, 
 for v/ith two small boys I was put on foot for three 
 weeks. He rode a nice few winners ; my suspension 
 was his blessing. Martin was about a year older than 
 me, and had plenty of experience. He is a fine curler, 
 and keeping himself fit in the winter in that way has 
 enabled him to keep going up to the present day. He 
 was light too. By the way that was the real cause of 
 some of Johnny Reiff 's successes too, for they were able 
 to use dead weight and to put in the proper place. I 
 know that it is going against old accepted ideas to say 
 that dead weight is better than live, but it is beyond 
 question that it is, for it remains stationary and doesn't 
 wobble about like poor jockeys who resemble jelly- 
 fish and seem to be trying to do a danse de ventre all the 
 time on a horse's back. 
 
 One of the best American jockeys who ever came 
 to Europe was Lucien Lyne, who never had a proper 
 chance in England or he would have got right there. 
 Lucien went to Belgium and has been very successful, 
 for he is a first-class rider, but I suppose the public 
 has to see results to appreciate a man. 
 
 One of the most powerful finishers I have seen was 
 Willie Pratt, now trainer at Chantilly. More than one 
 Grand Prix has been won by his strength in the last 
 furlong. I have heard him likened in style to Fred 
 Archer, but can only take this as the opinion of others. 
 I know that with several friends of mine I packed up 
 a big parcel after I had quit riding when Pratt had 
 
 148 
 
SAM AND TOM LOATES 
 
 won the Grand Prix on Kizil Kourgan. lie won four 
 altogether. 
 
 If I were asked who was the best all-round rider of 
 the past dozen years I should undoubtedly answer 
 George Stern. He is a hustler, and he never minds 
 what sort of course it is — great or small, right-handed 
 or left-handed, whether it is round or straight : all 
 come the same to him. He is so fearless too and takes 
 chances, and he seldom if ever loses his head. One 
 knows that he can get out of tight places, and it would 
 take any of the others all their time to outgeneral him, 
 for he has forgotten more than many of them will ever 
 know. His great rivals now in this year of 1915 are 
 Frank O'Neill and Johnny Reiff and sometimes I should 
 be inclined to put them all three on the same mark 
 with regard to ability. 
 
 The ex-amateur Randall I always thought was a 
 good rider. I watched him very carefully on occa- 
 sions. William Halsey too, who was not slow in 
 adopting the forward seat, was a man of great ability, 
 and a great horseman through his experience on 
 jumpers. 
 
 It was an asset to me not having to " waste " like 
 many of them. Lester Reiff had to keep himself in 
 condition and had a good deal of trouble to ride 
 reasonable weights ; that was where Johnny Reiff got 
 a good many chances. 
 
 I used to be called to task for not appreciating in the 
 way the public did the ability of the late Tom Loates, 
 but I could never see him in the same street as his 
 brother Sam. 
 
 There was frequently a little bit of bother owing to 
 my rivalry with Tom Loates. I remember once at 
 Epsom one of his chief employers came to me to the 
 jockeys' room and barred my way into it while he said : 
 
 149 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 " You interfered with my horse," referring to an 
 animal Tom had been riding and which had much dis- 
 appointed the stable. 
 
 " I never even saw your horse Mr " I replied. 
 
 His answer was : 
 
 " I'll report you to the stewards for interference." 
 
 The only thing I could retort was that he had no 
 right to stop me. I knew the rules of racing, and his 
 jockey had never laid any complaint against me. 
 Nothing more came of it. My opponent had always 
 been reckoned as the "great" Tommy Loates, and 
 judged by the number of his successes I suppose he 
 was great. It was when he began to lose more than 
 usual that the little troubles used to arise and it was 
 I who was blamed. 
 
 It must not be thought that I am prejudiced in saying 
 what I have for I had no friends to speak of among 
 jockeys, and I don't remember ever having dinner or 
 luncheon — I mean " parties " of course — with any 
 other jockeys in my own or any other country. 
 
 " Pittsburg Phil " had a good many things to say 
 about riders. Some of the brightest have been 
 handed down. Here are a few : 
 
 A good jockey, a good horse, a good bet. A 
 poor jockey, a good horse, a moderate bet. A 
 good horse, a moderate jockey, a moderate bet. 
 
 Special knowledge is not a talent ; a man 
 must acquire it. 
 
 The majority of the riders and horses are 
 game and will fight for victory no matter where 
 they are placed. 
 
 Some jockeys excel on heavy tracks ; a good 
 mud rider will frequently bring a bad horse home. 
 
 150 
 
THRIFTY JOCKEYS 
 
 A jockey should not be overloaded with in- 
 structions. Honest horses ridden by honest 
 boys are sometimes beaten by honest trainers. 
 Instructions are given to the riders which mean 
 sure defeat, intended for the best though they 
 are. 
 
 " Pittsburg Phil " must have had Lester Reiff and 
 one or two others I have named in his mind when he 
 said that " jockeys make a great difference in the 
 running of horses. An intelligent jockey has a great 
 value, for he profits by the mistakes of others." He 
 used to add that " seventy-five per cent, of the in- 
 consistency in horse racing, which is generally put 
 down to criminality, is nothing more or less than lack 
 of intelligence on the part of the jockey." 
 
 Just a little more about jockeys riding in my time. 
 There are rich men to-day and there are men of very 
 moderate means for all their hard work and savings. 
 I should say that George Stern is the richest pro- 
 fessional I ever rode against, and all the time he has 
 lived well so there is all the more credit for making the 
 fortune. It was easy for some of them to get money 
 together when they had plenty of riding. You can 
 believe the story of a well-off jockey who retired from 
 the saddle some years ago and recently died. He used 
 to set out from Newmarket with £3 and always make 
 up his mind that he would come back with at least £7 
 after having paid his expenses and not drawing any- 
 thing for his rides. 
 
 In 1899 I was building up a fine fortune myself, for 
 I had £37,000 in one bank, besides some good invest- 
 ments in New York and California. I should say that 
 for the length of his career Frank Wootton made as 
 much or more than anyone. He retired earlier than 
 
 151 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 Dillon did, and for a young boy the latter certainly did 
 well in savings during the years he was riding success- 
 fully. Madden, Halsey and Sam Loates were a trio 
 who never had to worry about what they were going 
 to do when they quitted the saddle ; however, perhaps 
 the financial status of jockeys need not be further 
 referred to. Expenses are great, and as for myself 
 I would repeat that I never charged anything for 
 travelling nor for riding gallops. I scarcely ever rode 
 our own at work ; in fact I can say I was nine times out 
 of ten engaged in outside gallops for which I was never 
 paid and never expected to be. 
 
 152 
 
CHAPTER XXI 
 
 THE BIG PLUNGER 
 
 loo-Dollar Bills for the "Girls" — Riley Grannan's End— Romano 
 
 Hospitality 
 
 In the Autumn of 1909 I was again to ride the winner 
 of the Middle Park Plate, being up on Democrat, who 
 beat Diamond Jubilee and Goblet, these placings being 
 repeated in the Dewhurst Plate two weeks later. 
 Diamond Jubilee hadn't shown much at the time but 
 turned out altogether better than Democrat, who was 
 really not a good horse, although of better class than 
 Caiman. In the Middle Park they took evens about 
 the winner, with Diamond Jubilee at 100 to 7, and in 
 the Dewhurst they laid 5 to 2 on mine with 4 to 1 about 
 Diamond Jubilee. 
 
 The stable always thought a great deal more of 
 Democrat than they were justified in doing. Another 
 in the stable, Blacksmith, was in my opinion a much 
 better horse and I won five races off the reel on him. 
 He was a very hard puller and ran away with me the 
 first time I was on him and he would give trouble all 
 the time. 
 
 Betting on my mounts in 1899 was Charles Riley 
 Grannan, one of the heaviest plungers when he had the 
 money or credit that racing in modern years has seen. 
 He might not in his day have bet so much in one sum 
 as John W. Gates, but he would have wagered and 
 gambled much more than Gates if he had possessed 
 them. He had a very big win on Democrat when I won 
 the Middle Park. On another occasion Riley Grannan 
 
 153 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 just missed taking more money out of the Ring in one 
 afternoon than any plunger for years before or after- 
 wards. I can recall having ridden the first two winners 
 and then I had the mount on Democrat against 
 O'Donovan Rossa. Grannan had wagered £16,000, 
 having won a very big packet over the first two events. 
 I shall always be certain that I beat O'Donovan 
 Rossa by half a length. There could be no mistake for 
 the two of us were locked together and not wide apart. 
 There was consternation on the part of many when my 
 number didn't go up. Grannan was mad and some of 
 the " boys " tried to console him by having bottles of 
 wine, which he didn't take much of usually. He 
 simply went crazy with annoyance about it, and, 
 being in that state, came into the Ring and put 
 £20,000 at evens on Desmond, who hadn't been out 
 that year. I know that the first bet was £13,000 from 
 Pickersgill. 
 
 Desmond was never seen in the race ! 
 
 If Riley had drawn over Democrat it is certain that 
 he would have netted £70,000 that afternoon. But it 
 was said that he would never have got away with the 
 ready money part of it ; too many of the " boys " 
 were after him. They shadowed him and were all 
 ready to take him to town that night. 
 
 At other times Grannan was a perfect lunatic bettor. 
 Sometimes it came off. He was a tall thin cadaverous- 
 looking man with nervous actions, although he was one 
 of the quickest gamblers imaginable, either at poker, 
 bridge, or faro. Originally he was a bell boy, or page, 
 at an hotel in Lexington, but started playing the races 
 and got on until he ran into money. I do not suppose 
 that at any time he was worth more than £60,000 or 
 £70,000, and even so he was quite liable to be broke 
 a few days afterwards. I remember he lost 50,000 
 
 154 
 
100-DOLLAR BILLS FOR THE GIRLS 
 
 dollars one week and had nothing left. That was in 
 New York. He was staying with me at my hotel on 
 one occasion two or three weeks after that loss and 
 came to me one morning when there were races at 
 Belmont Park. I was going to drive my wife with a 
 friend of hers out in a car, and Grannan said he would 
 come too. He asked me if I had any money and I 
 told him not a nickel. He showed me 10 dollars he 
 had to begin betting with, and I knew that was about 
 the strength of his bank roll. At all events I got a box 
 at Belmont Park and he went down and began. He 
 backed the first winner and then the second and the 
 third. He had run into money by this time and had 
 6000 dollars on the fourth race which went down. At 
 all events before the end of the day he had well over 
 5000 dollars left and brought the girls a clean 100- 
 dollar note each and we were all right. 
 
 At another time I knew he had put 6000 dollars, all 
 he had, on a horse for an event in the future, and he 
 came to a mutual friend of ours and asked him for a 
 loan of 500 dollars. 
 
 " Are you broke already ? " said the man, " why I 
 know you have thousands on the next race ; can't you 
 wait for that ? " 
 
 " No, I can't : I want to put some more on ; he can't 
 lose, I tell you, and you must give it to me. I wish I 
 had fifty thousand to put on him." 
 
 He would never hesitate for a second when he had 
 made up his mind, and when he had a real fancy would 
 empty himself of ready money and get all the credit 
 he could cajole. 
 
 In 1900 Grannan came over for half the year to 
 England but I didn't see so much of him. He had 
 begun to bet on Lester Reiff and was going very strong, 
 as were two other Charlies — Charles Quinn and Charles 
 
 155 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 Dwyer. It was a case of up and down, one day a small 
 fortune with Grannan and the next hardly knowing 
 how he was to go to a meeting. Sometimes it was a 
 bit of a scrape up to settle, for by this time he had 
 worked himself into a lot of credit and the Ring would 
 stand him big for sums until of course one Monday 
 arrived with too big a balance against him. Still he 
 never lost hope nor neglected to keep in touch with 
 the form. 
 
 One night he said to me, " If I'd been racing to-day 
 I should have won a fortune but I've given it a rest." 
 
 I was putting him up at the time at the Lexington 
 in New York. " There's a game of bridge to-night, 
 Tod," he went on, "and you know that I am a good 
 player ; lend me fifty dollars and I'll make something." 
 
 He told me where the game was to be and it cleared 
 me out to lend him the fifty. 
 
 I didn't see him till the next evening ; I thought he 
 might have had an all-night sitting and I wasn't racing 
 myself the next day. Just before dinner I came across 
 him looking down his nose over a cocktail and asked 
 him how he got on at the bridge game, for I was look- 
 ing for the fifty back and a little interest if he had had 
 any luck. 
 
 " I didn't play no bridge," he said. " I put the fifty 
 on a horse to-day and it went down." 
 
 He was like some old horses and was getting cunning, 
 so eventually I helped him to get out to California, 
 where he said he would be all right. He evidently got 
 some money somewhere for he wrote to me cheerfully. 
 
 I heard one good story of him out there. He was 
 up in a friend's apartment very tired and was taking a 
 rest on the sofa sleeping peacefully while a dollar game 
 of poker was going on. Hour after hour passed and 
 still Riley never stirred. The boys had got a bit more 
 
 156 
 
RILEY GR ANNAN'S END 
 
 lively in the game and at last one of them called out 
 " I'll raise you ten dollars." This had an electric effect 
 on Riley, who hopped up, took a chair and said, " Give 
 me a stack of those chips. I'm in this business." In 
 half-an-hour he had skinned the lot of them, and was 
 owed quite a decent sum. 
 
 It was soon after this that he went down to Reno 
 and beat the bank out of more than they could pay 
 him. There was only one thing to do for the quick- 
 witted Riley, to tell them that he'd have a share in the 
 establishment and he became partners in the house. 
 A few weeks after, however, he died, a comparatively 
 young man— I don't think he was more than forty. 
 At his funeral in February 1909 there was a great 
 oration delivered by one of those connected with the 
 faro bank they ran. Tlie speaker at the graveside 
 at that mining camp had been a minister at some 
 remote time and I have heard that it was one of the 
 finest send-offs a dead man ever had. I saw a copy 
 of it once, but unhappily cannot reproduce it. Tliere 
 was a quaintness about the whole proceedings which 
 was quite pathetic. It was like one of Bret Harte's 
 stories. 
 
 Yes, he was great value, Charles Riley Grannan, a 
 man who seldom smiled although he possessed a dry 
 humour that was real wit. 
 
 Betting at the same time on English tracks was 
 Charlie Dwyer, who was then about twenty-five years 
 old, a great plunger just like Grannan — that is, when 
 he had it. He was the son of Mike Dwyer of the 
 celebrated Dwyer Brothers who have already been 
 mentioned as successful race-horse owners, and whose 
 horses were first hit upon by Pittsburg Phil as worth 
 following. The partnership between Mike and Phil 
 Dwyer lasted years. They were originally butchers 
 
 157 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 in Brooklyn, but got into the racing business and 
 eventually gave that up for something more profitable. 
 Mike was the plunger of the two and was known as 
 " Plunger " Dwyer as distinct from his brother who 
 was dubbed " Piker " Dwyer. Mike would readily 
 have 25,000 dollars on a horse while at the same time 
 perhaps Phil was putting 5 dollars on. However, in 
 the end Mike left nothing, while Phil is worth away up 
 into the millions to-day. I rode a great deal for them. 
 
 ^^^len the partnership was dissolved they tossed who 
 should have the right of the original colours, red jacket 
 and blue cap; Phil won, and he had the honour of 
 keeping on the jacket and cap in which such great 
 animals as Hanover, Miss Woodford and some of 
 the greatest horses we had in America have raced. 
 Mike adopted all white and was very successful for 
 many years. It was he who induced Phil to come into 
 the racing business when he was about twenty-five 
 years old. This led to the amassing of an enormous 
 fortune, which, however, was not kept by Mike. He 
 was a splendid loser for I can remember when he was 
 in his declining years and declining luck I was riding 
 a mare named Lady Inez. I was in great form, and 
 apparently the mare was too, for they laid 3 to 1 on her. 
 Mike Dwyer had laid 25,000 dollars on her, but soon 
 after the start she broke a blood vessel and of course I 
 had to pull up. I was covered with blood on return- 
 ing, and caught sight of Mike Dwyer sitting quietly as 
 if nothing had happened. In fact one couldn't say 
 from his face whether he had had a bet or not. I 
 went up to him and said, " It's too bad." He replied 
 quietly, " It can't be helped, we must hope for better 
 luck next time." 
 
 That was the spirit he lived and died in. Phil's son 
 died years ago. He was an only child. I believe Mike 
 
 158 
 
ROMANO HOSPITALITY 
 
 had brought Charhe up with a college education, but 
 he was very wild and up to all sorts of pranks and he 
 had some escapade with a race-horse of his own in the 
 college grounds. Eventually he took to racing with 
 the capital of about a dollar and ran into money, own- 
 ing some good horses in his time, one, Africander, 
 being quite first class and winning plenty of races. 
 When in England he was always very level-headed, and 
 would gamble on favourites, whereas Grannan always 
 liked horses with a price against them. Charlie had 
 wonderful nerve and ability for his age. 
 
 Another who was betting pretty freely was Charlie 
 Quin. He had a handsome and most gentlemanly 
 appearance, being all the time most popular, but he was 
 somewhat reserved and he kept his own counsel. All 
 three of them lived at the Savoy or the Cecil, and there 
 were great gatherings on occasions, but one would 
 seldom follow the lead of another in racing, adopting 
 his own views before anything. Of course I saw 
 something of them but not a great deal. We all 
 kept not exactly aloof but distinct, for they were not 
 following me in particular but working out their own 
 ideas. 
 
 Recalling those times at the Cecil I made a little 
 error in saying that I was never entertained — at 
 " parties " I mean. I remember that the late Mr 
 Romano showed hospitality to me by keeping his 
 lights up long after the time they should by regulation 
 have been turned out, and, with a party of friends who 
 are all living and whose names are well known in 
 certain circles, had a little game of Nap for my amuse- 
 ment. I said I had never played it, but Romano said 
 that was ridiculous and that anyone with my intelli- 
 gence and with the card mind could pick it up in five 
 minutes if he watched it. Well, I did watch it and 
 
 159 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 dropped £350 ready money in half-an-hour. It was 
 so silly of Mr Romano's friends to rush the game so 
 quickly, for had there been some encouragement I 
 suppose that I would just as easily have dropped in the 
 long run (I mean at many sittings) £3500. I didn't 
 tumble to it a bit at the moment, but when I got up 
 from the table and they wanted to give me my revenge 
 at some other game the graft was as clear as daylight. 
 Some of the gentlemen who worked the West End and 
 Continental cities, and who are alive and well, may like 
 to know that they missed that day the smallest in size 
 but yet perhaps one of the biggest mugs about at that 
 time. I only stopped short at thinking I quite knew 
 everything. 
 
 i6o 
 
/' 
 
 Johnny Reifk 
 
 From Spy's caricature in " I'afiity Fair," igoo 
 
CHAPTER XXII 
 
 A VISIT TO AMERICA 
 
 A Missed Bargain — No Record of Bets — Handicapping Americans 
 
 When I was suspended for three weeks after the 
 Echpse Meeting at Sandown Park in July I had of 
 course nothing to do, so I took a run over to America, 
 spending part of my time there in New York and four 
 days at Saratoga. I was asked to ride but I refused, 
 as I considered that as I was suspended in England 
 there might be some objection. 
 
 Of course I was asked any amount of questions as 
 to how the suspension came about, and the papers had 
 something to say as well, the principal statement being 
 that I must have been at my old tricks — trying to beat 
 the starter. As a matter of fact Mr Coventry had 
 told Lord Marcus Beresford that he was not altogether 
 pleased at the sentence. 
 
 At Saratoga I gambled each day and won over 
 10,000 dollars, so it was a profitable trip. By the way, 
 the suspension I have just alluded to was the only one 
 I suffered in England, except when I was put down for 
 the remainder of the meeting (one day) at Doncaster 
 after I had beaten Eager on Lucknow. 
 
 Returning to England I was certain that the rest 
 had done me no end of good, and I began riding about 
 the first of September. That Autumn I had my first 
 opportunity of riding on a French race-course. Baron 
 Schickler sent over for me to ride a horse in a Plate 
 for him, and I won it. The jockeys riding in France 
 L i6i 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 then, with the exception of one or two, were a joke — 
 as many Anglo-French trainers can vouch. On the 
 grey I just beat Dodd a head : he said he was kidding 
 me and could have won if he had liked. The truth was 
 that he really didn't think anything of me, as he has 
 told me since. At all events my horse had his head in 
 front at the end of the race, I had £200 for my ex- 
 penses in going over, and I always received this sum 
 when engaged on subsequent occasions. The £200 fee 
 could have been maintained at that, but a certain 
 American jockey with a successful record quite un- 
 necessarily cut it down to £50. I didn't want 
 to go anyway, even for £200 ; crossing the Channel 
 and so on and missing the Sunday rest took the 
 gilt off the gingerbread. Tilings are a great deal 
 more stringent in France now than they were sixteen 
 years ago, for I was never asked to show my licence 
 and I might, apart from my colour, have been Jack 
 Johnson instead of Tod Sloan. 
 
 It was in Paris that I first formed the idea of the 
 negligent way horses were kept, about which I have 
 written in a previous chapter, but I liked the trip and 
 looked forward to others afterwards. The American 
 invasion had not begun in France but was getting in 
 full blast in England, and a good deal was being said 
 of the number of races won by certain jockeys and 
 trainers, and all sorts of statements made. The 
 number of bettors who came over was one of the worst 
 things for the riders, and it was natural that the in-and- 
 out career of some of the gamblers should rather 
 scandalise old-fashioned people in England. It was 
 not that the Americans knew any more how to wager 
 and make a good bargain with the bookmakers than 
 Englishmen did, but there were so many suggestions 
 that they stood in with the jockeys that things became 
 
 162 
 
A MISSED BARGAIN 
 
 most uncomfortable all round, and the Jockey Club may 
 have become uneasy through the many innuendoes put 
 about. Some of the backers failing to settle too made 
 things worse than ever, and there were wholesale 
 charges of doping. 
 
 Wlien in America on the visit just mentioned I again 
 asked " Pittsburg Phil " whether he intended to take 
 a holiday in Europe for a time, and sometimes he 
 thought he would, and then he changed his mind ; but 
 the more he thought of it he said the more he preferred 
 to stay where he was. By the way, I have just read 
 some statements attributed to " Phil " about part of 
 his career which I should like to give a different version 
 of, especially for those sporting men in America who 
 read this. 
 
 One of these refer to a horse named Previous who 
 belonged to Mike Dwyer. It is stated that he was a 
 very sulky horse who would not get away at the post 
 for many jockeys, in fact not extend himself at all. 
 He was never a sulker but he liked certain conditions 
 of going better than others. Wlien I beat Hamburg 
 on him it was another case of Caiman and Flying Fox. 
 I kidded Taral who rode Hamburg and just headed 
 him. 
 
 It was curious that when Previous was a two-year- 
 old Mike Dwyer said to me that he was going to sell 
 him and had received an offer of 900 dollars and he 
 should let him go. " Don't do that," I said. " If 
 you want to part with him I'll give you 900 dollars, but 
 keep him and you'll win races." But it took a lot of 
 persuasion to bring it about. I spoke to Charlie 
 Dwyer and begged him to induce his father not to part 
 with the animal. It was then arranged that I was to 
 ride him in a Plate, which I won ; shortly afterwards 
 he took another event as well. Later on he was put 
 
 163 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 in a much more important race and he won again. 
 By this time he was reckoned as being worth 5000 
 dollars ; and eventually after one or two more successes 
 and the beating of Hamburg he was thought one of the 
 best horses in America. He was nothing of the kind. 
 
 Another statement which Pittsburg Phil was sup- 
 posed to have made was that Skeets Martin was and 
 is a good mud rider and it was this knowledge that 
 caused him to put Skeets up on Howard Mann who 
 won the Brooklyn Handicap, beating his other two 
 entries, Belmar and The Winner. " Tod Sloan was 
 riding for me then " — I quote Pittsburg Phil's words — 
 " and he knew that Howard Mann could beat good 
 horses in the mud but he did not think he could out- 
 step Belmar. I believed that Howard Mann could 
 beat Belmar under certain conditions and told Martin 
 so. I thought Martin was better than Sloan in the 
 mud, and when Sloan chose the mount on Belmar I 
 was secretly pleased. The only orders I gave in the 
 race were to Martin to get up on Howard Mann, get 
 off and go about his business. I added in a joking way 
 that if Tod were within hearing distance of him at the 
 head of the stretch to tell him to hurry home or he 
 would be too late. Wliether Skeets ever said it I do 
 not know, but if he did Tod never heard him. Howard 
 Mann was half-way home before Belmar hit the quarter 
 pole." 
 
 The real facts of the case are that Phil only had 
 Belmar and Howard Mann in the race and Fred Taral 
 was to be put on Belmar who had no chance, but I was 
 so fond of the horse and had won on him so frequently 
 that I didn't want to see him perhaps knocked about 
 by a rider who didn't understand him ; so I got Skeets 
 for Howard Mann since Phil was determined to run the 
 two. There was no question of Skeets being such a 
 
 164 
 
NO RECORD OF BETS 
 
 great star in the mud. In fact a reference to a previous 
 chapter will show that " Skeets " was not very anxious 
 about riding Proclamation in the mud, and handed 
 me that winning mount in the Manchester November 
 Handicap. Phil was certainly right when he said a 
 good mud rider will frequently bring a bad horse home, 
 because the riders of the good horses are not always 
 as game as they might be. Weak boys are always 
 handicapped on a heavy track. In such conditions a 
 horse needs help to keep him from sprawling and from 
 wasting the energy which will be useful later. I am 
 sure Skeets will not take the above amiss, for his stand- 
 ing has always been admitted, but he never put himself 
 up as a specialist on a sulking horse. 
 
 ^Vlien I was at Saratoga during that holiday I 
 noticed that Phil was just as careless about not jotting 
 down bets as he always had been. I have seen him 
 have a wager of 10,000 or 15,000 dollars altogether, 
 perhaps split up between three men. After the race if 
 he won it he would sometimes but not always write it 
 down, and if he lost would occasionally not bother a 
 bit until the end of the day. It was not to be wondered 
 at that he was not a hard man to convince that he had 
 left out a record of a bet when he was claimed for some- 
 thing he hadn't paid. His friends often asked him 
 why he didn't make notes. He would smile and 
 answer that he had trusted to his memory for so long 
 and that he couldn't be bothered. I never heard of 
 his having a secretary as it has been stated he had. A 
 secretary wasn't at all in his line of country, although 
 he had plenty of men working for him with the book- 
 makers. 
 
 Two other big bettors, John Drake, who came to 
 England in 1899, and John W. Gates, who made such 
 a stir in 1900 and 1901, were very exact in their records 
 
 165 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 of wagers. The former in particular, whether the bets 
 were made by himself or through a commissioner. 
 Gates was the bigger gambler on the race-course of the 
 two, and would often prefer to go along the rails him- 
 self to make his bets, because some of the layers he 
 could call down — in fact buffalo them. Of course the 
 way these men bet made a sensation. One day in 
 America, by the way. Gates was betting so high that 
 he might have lost a million dollars. The bookmakers 
 saw to it that he didn't. It wasn't that they were 
 afraid of his not settling, but they didn't want him to 
 lose too much in one day. He had lost a vast sum 
 before the last race — I think it was at Sheepshead Bay 
 — and wanted to put 200,000 dollars on a 3 to 1 on 
 chance in the last race. But he was a bit late and they 
 told him they wouldn't have it and turned him down. 
 He was furious at the moment, but that hot favourite 
 was just beaten ! — and he did a war dance at his own 
 escape and at what they had missed. 
 
 Mr Drake was a managing director of a big hotel 
 company in Chicago, where it is well known Gates also 
 lived. In England Duke and Wishard, the trainers, 
 were in partnership, or rather there was a s^Tidicate of 
 which Drake wasn't a member. There was a talk of 
 Duke going away, so there would have been a case of 
 dissolved partnership. But from whatever cause Duke 
 didn't go and bought Wishard out, or at all events 
 Wishard went from the concern rather against his will. 
 In consultation with Drake Wishard said, " Well, 
 Duke has all the horses which we have so carefully got 
 together ; it's a bit awkward, but at all events I have 
 the two boys, Lester and Johnny Reiff." 
 
 Mr Drake has told me (and he confirmed it only the 
 other day) that he went to his bank and made all 
 arrangements and told Wishard to go ahead and get a 
 
 i66 
 
HANDICAPPING AMERICANS 
 
 stable together. Tlie first animal, Escurio, tliey 
 bought out of a selling race and put in a handicap. 
 He was given top weight which of course came as a 
 big surprise. It was a question of handicapping the 
 owner, trainer, and the jockey — Lester Reiff. Tlie 
 English officials were mad about the dope question at 
 the time, yet Escurio despite his top weight started 
 at 7 to 4 on in a good field and won it. It has been 
 stated so many times that Drake and Gates won 
 £100,000 over Royal Flush in the Stewards' Cup that 
 I was glad to have an opportunity in this year of 1915 
 of asking Mr Drake about it. He said that a hundred 
 thousand represented about the exact figure. There 
 was a great purchase for you. Royal Flush, if you like ! 
 They bought him privately for £400 and his record in 
 1900 was a real good one, showing the wonderful im- 
 provement which could be made in a horse by up-to- 
 date methods. Let me add that when Eager won the 
 celebrated match against Royal Flush Drake and Gates 
 did not have a penny on their horse, for he was 
 absolutely no good in the going. 
 
 167 
 
CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 THE ASCOT INCIDENT 
 
 Yachting Suit at Ascot — Lord William's Action — The " Cop" pitches the Tale 
 
 What has been described as " the Ascot incident in 
 Tod Sloan's career " has been scandalously discussed 
 for years and I should say that quite ten thousand 
 people have alleged that they saw the whole business ! 
 I was supposed to have made a murderous assault on 
 a waiter with a champagne bottle. The occurrences of 
 that afternoon at Ascot never seem to have been for- 
 gotten. 
 
 Now I have promised to put my heart on the table 
 with regard to nearly every incident of my life : 
 sometimes it may be in excuse, at others in apology, 
 but above all I want to clear up certain reports 
 which have been exaggerated or even maliciously 
 invented. It seems strange that such a small man 
 as myself, a jockey simply trying to win and 
 treading on the heels of so few with whom he 
 came in contact, should have been the object of such 
 antagonism. \Miatever my private life was it was 
 for the most part with friends, and whatever others 
 thought I did not bother them with my opinions and 
 I always tried to be as little aggressive as possible, 
 never getting into arguments unless there was a " butt- 
 in " on someone else's part — which there frequently 
 was. 
 
 Before describing that Ascot business it is only 
 justice perhaps to say that the morning after it 
 
 i68 
 
YACHTING SUIT AT ASCOT 
 
 occurred I went to the stewards and made a full 
 explanation. Tliey accepted it freely, saying it was 
 unfortunate, but that they had nothing against me for 
 it. Furthermore, they allowed me to ride during the 
 rest of the meeting and all that season and during the 
 year afterwards, 1900. 
 
 Here are the facts. After I had finished my work 
 that bright summer's day at Ascot I went with George 
 Chaloner, for whom I was riding, and another man — 
 who had been engaged by Lord William to see me 
 through any little incident which might arise and to 
 show me the way about — to the lawn behind the 
 stands, and we sat down at a table. It was very hot 
 and there was a small bottle of champagne ordered of 
 which I took very little, not having had a drink the 
 whole day. After a time George Chaloner got up, 
 saying : 
 
 " I have to see about my horses, but don't you leave 
 till I come back." He was particular in repeating 
 that I wasn't to go away, but I never exactly knew 
 whether he had any idea of " rough house " being 
 played or not ; anyhow he was very emphatic. I had 
 a cottage near the course and as it was very warm I 
 had changed into a white yachting suit with white 
 braid and a peaked yachting cap, which I had worn in 
 America when on my boat. Of course it was a curious 
 get-up on Ascot Heath but the racing was just over and 
 that white suit was very comfortable in the warmth 
 of the June sim. 
 
 Well Chaloner left and the big fellow who had been 
 appointed by Lord William as a sort of minder for me 
 sat down with me at my table. There was only one 
 waiter about. Two tables away from me there 
 was a man sitting who kept on glaring at me and 
 presently he called the waiter over and they had a 
 
 169 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 loud whispered conversation, part of which, I got 
 the idea, was to the effect that the man sitting down 
 would give the waiter five shillings if he would upset 
 the table and the champagne over me — ^and my suit ! 
 I could not make out then, nor have I been able to 
 since, whether he was annoyed with me personally or 
 that my " costume " got up and hit him. Do you 
 understand ? I thought the whole thing was maliciously 
 done. Shortly, an accident did happen ; our table 
 was upset, and I caught the bottle before it had 
 got to the ground. Having it in my right hand 
 as the waiter lurched towards me I made a light 
 jab at him with the neck of it, meaning just to 
 give him a reminder. The bottle never left my 
 hand but where I touched him on the lip he was 
 cut, not a bit badly but enough to bring a little 
 blood. He went away then and was talking to the 
 proprietor for a while. A few got wind of the fact 
 that there had been a bit of a shindy and came around. 
 I had just left the place, without waiting any longer for 
 Chaloner, when Bill Goode came to me and said : 
 
 " That waiter has got a cut in the mouth. Now 
 you don't want any fuss about it ; you don't know the 
 place like I do and it would be as well to square him." 
 
 I protested against doing anything of the kind. 
 However, he kept on at me and at last I gave way to 
 his advice and handed him five pounds — five pounds 
 in gold mind you. Goode came back and told me that 
 the man wasn't hurt and was not only satisfied with 
 the fiver, but I could have another go for him at the 
 same price ! 
 
 The whole thing at the time seemed a simple annoy- 
 ance, and dinner almost made me forget all about it. 
 However, in the evening another man, a fellow- employe 
 of the injured waiter, asked for me and handed me a 
 
 170 
 
LORD WILLIAM'S ACTION 
 
 blood-stained five-pound note, saying that his friend 
 could not be bribed for the severe injury which I had 
 caused him. . . . 
 
 And then the papers took the matter up and 
 there was a new version every day. The majority 
 stated that I had " heaved " the bottle at the man, 
 that I was drunk — everything in fact was said that 
 wasn't true ! 
 
 Still the talk went on and I wanted to take pro- 
 ceedings, but Lord William said: "Little man, let 
 sleeping dogs lie." It was the first time in my life 
 I had heard the expression ; I know I ought to have 
 known it before but it seemed so appropriate that I 
 never forgot it afterwards. * 
 
 The incident was still being discussed and was, I 
 should think, being worn threadbare. Then one day 
 Lord William came to me and said he had hushed up 
 the whole business and had paid several hundred 
 pounds. He added : 
 
 " Don't let's think anything more about it ; keep 
 your mind on your riding. I've paid the money so 
 that's all right ; I want nothing from you." But I 
 went over the affair again, trying to convince him that 
 the whole thing had started in the beastly attempt to 
 bully me by the waiter and his associate. 
 
 Then Lord William used all his charm of manner 
 to persuade me to keep quiet and to say nothing 
 more. 
 
 " The Stewards exonerated you : that's the chief 
 thing, little man ; and don't let's argue any more about 
 it," he said. 
 
 But I kept on, although in a respectful way. 
 
 " As you have paid, my lord," I declared at last, 
 " it can't be helped." But naturally I insisted on 
 standing the expense myself : it was deducted from 
 
 171 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 my retainer at my repeated urgent requests, although 
 for a long time Lord William would not consent. 
 
 There is the story in as much detail as it is 
 wise to indulge in of how I thought I had been 
 made the victim of an assault and of how I replied 
 to it. I still think I should have been justified in 
 doing something a bit stronger. I would ask fair 
 judgment on this, for I have stated the case without 
 the slightest exaggeration and without excusing my- 
 self. Those who read this can ask themselves what 
 they would do in similar circumstances. I am not a 
 giant and didn't know exactly how far those two 
 intended to go. There had been one or two instances 
 before when I had been hustled rather badly on rail- 
 way platforms ; at one time indeed I was nearly going 
 down under the engine. There are other things too 
 which happened which it is needless to bring up after 
 so many years. That warning of George Chaloner's, 
 however, was significant. 
 
 As I have said, every other person who discussed 
 the incident had his own version. About four years 
 afterwards I was down at Maidenhead at a cottage 
 occupied by the late Major " Jim " Hill. There were 
 one or two other men there too. A knock came at the 
 door and a police officer came in saying he was in a bit 
 of trouble, for a present of coal and w^ood and one or 
 two other little things which Major (then Capt.) Hill 
 had given him had been found out, and he was likely 
 to be called over the coals (no pun intended). Jim 
 Hill said that the present was no bribe ; it had just 
 been a little gift to the man's wife and children, for he 
 took an interest in the latter. 
 
 The officer was then asked to have a drink, and the 
 men began to draw him out about different little 
 things and got on to the topic of racing. The " Cop " 
 
 172 
 
THE COP PITCHES THE TALE 
 
 had scarcely noticed me ; in any case he didn't know 
 who I was. He spoke about Morny Cannon, Maher, 
 Martin and others and then Jim said : 
 
 " Wliat about that chap Sloan ? Did you ever see 
 him ? " 
 
 The man's face broadened into a smile : " Well I 
 should say so. Wasn't I at Ascot when he slung that 
 magnum at the waiter and split his skull. Hot stuff I 
 tell you, my lords — I mean Colonel " (he called them 
 all sorts of things that evening). Resuming he said : 
 " Well, Captain, it is very nice of you and their lord- 
 ships to ask me to have another drink ; I never take 
 more than one, but as I'm off duty I will have another 
 spot. Yes that there Sloan is mustard ; what he 
 don't know isn't worth picking up ; but he can ride — 
 I'll give him his due. But that Ascot affair — I was 
 on duty just by, and Sloan wasn't charged. I went 
 up to him and asked him for an explanation, but kept 
 my eye open to see if another bottle was coming at me. 
 I tell you, my lords and gentlemen, he's a fire eater 
 that there Sloan. He's a wonderful fellow with a 
 horse ; they say he talks to 'em but — wot oh ! mustard 
 and cress ! " 
 
 He wasn't told that I was there ; he may have got 
 to know later on but I don't think so. I tell the story 
 because it is amusing, and also to make clearer the 
 fact that so many thousands pretended they were there, 
 whereas there were not more than seven in the vicinity 
 altogether. 
 
 ^73 
 
CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 merman's gold cup 
 
 Merman's Gold Cup — Engaged for Roughside — " The whole Truth " 
 
 After the season of 1899 I went over to America, 
 riding in California and returning as in the previous 
 year in time for Lincoln. It was not apparent at first 
 but as the season progressed there were black clouds 
 appearing ; some of them were very small certainly, 
 but they were indications of a coming storm. The 
 Americans were secretly and openly discussed, and it 
 was well known that certain inquiries were pending, 
 chiefly on the charge of dope. Successes were almost 
 entirely attributed to the use of drugs, and of course 
 while this was rumoured against trainers all those con- 
 nected with American stables were dragged into the 
 talk ; in fact there was an uncomfortable atmosphere 
 about everything. 
 
 Lester and Johnny Reiff were doing very well, 
 although Morny had started off by winning the 
 Lincoln, Great Metropolitan, and City and Suburban. 
 I scored in the Chester Cup on Roughside, finished 
 third in the Derby on Disguise II. and was third in 
 the Oaks on Lady Schomberg and second in the 
 Manchester Cup on Joe Chamberlain. Then Johnny 
 Reiff won the Hunt Cup and Stewards' Cup on Royal 
 Flush. 
 
 Merman carried me home a 100 to 7 winner in the 
 Ascot Gold Cup ; Skeets Martin won the Northumber- 
 land Plate on Joe Chamberlain, and Johnny Reiff the 
 
 174 
 
MERMAN'S GOLD CUP 
 
 Goodwood Plate and Great Ebor on Jiffy II. After 
 winning the Middle Park Plate twice I finished second 
 on Orchid and was second on Codoman in the Cam- 
 bridgeshire. I was not riding the last three weeks of 
 the season, having ninety-two winners out of 310 
 mounts, making a tie with ^lorny, who, however, had 
 had one hundred and sixty-six mounts more than I. 
 Lester was first and Johnny third. 
 
 The successes of the two Reiffs had naturally not 
 called off the attention from the great topic of the 
 American invasion and its consequences, and there 
 were plenty about who were ready to say anything 
 that could be suggested about horses who had run 
 curiously well or unaccountably badly. All the same 
 for jockeys who always rode to win there could not 
 be serious thoughts of any disaster, and nothing was 
 further from our thoughts ; certainly nothing was 
 further from mine. Looking back now at that time I 
 find that everything stands out sharp and clear and 
 that details and impressions have stayed in my memory. 
 How indeed could it be otherwise when my career as a 
 jockey was to come to an end for so many years. 
 Before coming to the climax — which w^as reached in 
 the Autumn over Codoman' s second in the Cambridge- 
 shire — I should like to say a few words about some of 
 the earlier races and especially about Merman. 
 
 It was Gold Cup day at Ascot. Mrs Langtry's 
 horse had been brought there, but the reason why was 
 not very clear, for Robinson w^as against running him 
 in the Cup, saying that he was short of two or three 
 gallops. I pointed out that this was not necessarily 
 against him : at all events he was a fresh horse and 
 had not been overtrained as I heard one or two of the 
 others had been. Robinson said he couldn't do any- 
 thing until he saw the owner. Earlier in the afternoon 
 
 175 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 I had met Mrs Langtry and she told me the same thing 
 — that she had to listen to what Robinson said, and 
 couldn't move in the matter until she had consulted 
 him. In fact each of them was running about looking 
 for the other. Then I saw Mrs Langtry again and 
 said frankly to her : 
 
 " You always told me you'd be a good friend to me ; 
 now here I am without a mount and in the Gold Cup 
 too. One thing I promise you : I'll bring your horse 
 back to the paddock after the race as good as he went 
 out. He sha'n't be knocked about at all ; he can win 
 in his own way. After all it's the Gold Cup and 
 Merman is a good horse." 
 
 All the jockeys had weighed out and the time was 
 almost up when at last Mrs Langtry and Robinson 
 finished their talk and decided to run Merman. 
 Robinson said to me, " It isn't quite fair to run him 
 but they are doing so to please you, I suppose." 
 
 I was late at scale and I didn't get half a scolding 
 from Mr Manning. Anyhow out we went. I was told 
 that in the Ring they were laying 33 to 1 against 
 Merman. I know that some of my followers got 25's. 
 They laid odds on Perth III. who had been sent over 
 from France and was ridden by the late Tommy Lane. 
 
 Merman was such a nice horse to ride. I could do 
 anything with him. In the race things broke just as 
 I anticipated ; I tacked on behind and had the wind 
 break for over a mile and a half, and, as the race was 
 run, really a worse horse might have won it. Round 
 we went and I could feel Merman was full of running, 
 and when he felt like going along I let him out 
 and won from Scintillant and The Grafter with the 
 favourite nowhere. I had an idea that Robinson 
 wasn't altogether pleased, for of course they had 
 missed a golden opportunity of backing a good -priced 
 
 176 
 
Returning to Scale after Merman's Gold Cup 
 
ENGAGED FOR ROUGHSIDE 
 
 one. Mrs Langtry had won a rich stake and the Gold 
 Cup, and she congratulated me on winning. I got the 
 usual five-guinea fee and that's what the Ascot Gold 
 Cup was worth to me that year. And the Stewards 
 blame jockeys for betting ! Merman was an old horse 
 at the time ; it will be remembered he won the 
 Cesare witch in 1897 when a five-year-old. 
 
 Another interesting experience was over Roughside 
 in the Chester Cup. I didn't know much about him 
 but I had read up his performances and I had a sort of 
 presentiment that I ought to ride him. I told George 
 Chaloner who said : 
 
 " Wliy have you got such a fancy to ride that horse ? 
 Why, he has been hurdling and he won at the game 
 too." 
 
 That made me keener than ever to get the mount if 
 possible, but I took no action at all to do so for I didn't 
 know the owner ; but one day somebody came to me 
 at Sandown Park where Roughside was in a jumping 
 race and said, " Will you ride Roughside for Mr 
 Atherton Brown ? He is ill now but I am told to 
 ask you." And without any hesitation he added, 
 " You're on a monkey if you win." 
 
 Of course I accepted the mount and I looked for- 
 ward to the race for I had got a peculiar fancy that I 
 should win it, in fact without being familiar with the 
 horse's capacity I knew that from the work he had done 
 on the race-course hurdling he was as hard as nails, and 
 might easily be capable of going from end to end. 
 
 It was just as I thought. Slipping away at the start 
 I made my own pace — waiting in front. When they 
 came near me I would increase the pace a bit and when 
 I slowed they did. I lost no more ground than a 
 champion cycle rider. I remembered what the owner's 
 friend had said about my five hundred pounds and 
 M 177 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 I slipped round that soup-plate course and I won it 
 right enough. 
 
 But I never saw that five hundred pounds. Mr 
 Atherton Brown sent me a silver cigarette-case, and I 
 daresay he never heard of his friend's promise to me, 
 and certainly never authorised it. 
 
 I didn't bet on that race ; in fact I had given up 
 betting. It's all very well — and I'm not saying this 
 to kick against the rules — but a jockey has to live, and 
 I would repeat at the risk of boring the reader that I 
 never charged any expenses, any valets' fares, nor a 
 shilling for riding gallops. Winning and losing fees 
 sometimes do not amount to enough to pay all the 
 cost of travelling at racing prices. I don't know what 
 I should have got over Roughside if he had dead 
 heated ! Some of my readers may work that out for 
 themselves. 
 
 On Disguise II. in the Derby I had no chance although 
 he was third, for the simple reason that he had no pre- 
 tensions to stay a mile and a half. Joe Chamberlain, 
 which finished second with me in the Manchester Cup, 
 was hardly a race -horse at all and he was up against a 
 good filly, the Oaks winner La Roche. 
 
 In the Middle Park Plate in the autumn Orchid was 
 a great horse for pace but had no idea of staying ; he 
 was a rattle-brained animal and one had to fight him 
 all the time to place him. He turned out a good 
 sprinter afterwards, but that's all I ever thought he 
 would do. 
 
 All these events led up to the time in the autumn 
 when Codoman and I became acquainted. The 
 association with this horse brought about so much 
 trouble that it is with some feeling I approach the 
 story concerning him. I cannot but think that the 
 incidents surrounding everything in the race, the bet- 
 
 178 
 
THE WHOLE TRUTH 
 
 ting part of it all, the public talk concerning him, 
 what I was supposed to have done and what I 
 didn't do— I think they must all be told at length. 
 Looking back I see plainly that there are plenty of 
 things to blame myself for. I will tell the truth any- 
 way and then after all this lapse of years the public 
 and the heads of the Turf can consider the whole affair 
 in a calm spirit. Many of the actors in it are still 
 alive, and jockeys and others can disprove many of the 
 allegations which were made against me at the time — 
 after the race was over. 
 
 179 
 
CHAPTER XXV 
 
 CODOMAN 
 
 Changing Codoman's Plates — Santoi as Trial Horse — Long Delay at Post 
 
 In the middle of the week, about the 30th of September 
 or 1st October, I received from Paris a telegram from 
 M. Maurice Ephrussi asking me whether I would ride 
 Codoman in the Prix du Conseil Municipal, and, if 
 I would, how much I should want. A reply was im- 
 mediately sent saying, " Yes, and two hundred pounds 
 as the fee to cover everything." Then promptly came 
 another wire instructing me to be there on Sunday 
 morning. I knew nothing about the horse and the few 
 I asked could not throw any light on his chance except 
 that he had run well in the spring, but had been un- 
 placed in the French Derby and another important 
 race. 
 
 I can't say I was extra keen about making the trip, 
 but at all events it was a big race and the prospect of 
 winning it gave a little excitement to the journey. 
 After a short rest at my hotel I went to M. Ephrussi's 
 house for luncheon where I was to receive more in- 
 formation. I had taken over with me a set of light 
 American plates, but the difficulty began when I tried 
 to persuade M. Ephrussi to use them. He said that 
 his trainer, old Mr Carter, would be against it, and that 
 he would have to consider him in the matter, and also 
 that he thought it would be perhaps better to let the 
 horse run in the shoes he was used to. But keeping at 
 him I saw that he was coming round to the arguments 
 
 i8o 
 
CHANGING CODOMAN'S PLATES 
 
 I used. He told me he thought Codoman had a real 
 good chance. "Then if he has," I asked, "why not 
 make it more of a certainty ? " 
 
 Finally it was left that he would try and talk over 
 Carter when we got out to the course. There was some 
 difficulty in this and perhaps it was only natural that 
 an old and experienced trainer like Carter should 
 resent a boy butting in and suggesting what should be 
 done. I saw that he was ill-pleased and not at all 
 inclined to be content but at last he did yield and the 
 plates were changed. 
 
 Tlie plates made all the difference and some people 
 told me they had never seen Codoman travel as well 
 before. I was lying first or second all the way and 
 shouted to the boy who was alongside me that I was 
 not going to make my run until the top of the hill. 
 He didn't answer and I suppose he thought that I 
 might be kidding him ; at all events he took no notice. 
 Just as announced I slipped the horse along exactly 
 where I had indicated, and all those who remember 
 that event in 1900 will know that he won comfortably. 
 M. Ephrussi was very pleased but I had no congratu- 
 lations from Mr Carter, who, however, let me say at 
 once, has been very pleasant to me in recent years. 
 
 There was at the time no serious idea of Codoman 
 running in the Cambridgeshire. Anyhow the race in 
 Paris had been a good one for me and several of my 
 friends. The question of any present was not touched 
 upon at the time but of course I received the five 
 thousand francs for going over. I was pleased with 
 the horse and began to think that although he had 
 incurred a 10-lb. penalty for the Cambridgeshire, which 
 brought his weight up to 8-10, he might neverthe- 
 less have a chance. There had, however, been some 
 talk about my riding one or two others in the race. 
 
 i8i 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 M. Ephrussi came over to Newmarket for Cesarewitch 
 week and on the Wednesday, after the big race, which 
 beyond doubt Berrill should have won — and in my 
 opinion could have done so easily — I decided not to 
 pursue the chance of riding Berrill. 
 
 M. Ephrussi, I believe, had consulted someone as 
 to what would be an adequate present to give me for 
 winning the French race. He had packed up a big 
 parcel of money over that event. During the after- 
 noon he handed me a cheque for seven hundred pounds, 
 for which I was grateful. I thought him extremely 
 liberal and there and then I said, " I want you, 
 M. Ephrussi, to send Codoman over for the Cambridge- 
 shire, and I'll win it for you provided you let me have 
 charge of the horse for a week before the race. Let 
 the head lad bring him over and instruct him that I am 
 to have absolute responsibility for him. I will take 
 him to George Chaloner's place and will get a real good 
 horse to gallop him with. You can bet what you like 
 on his chance." 
 
 He discussed it all, and after a bit wrote a telegram 
 to Mr Carter with the instructions I so much desired, 
 and the horse was expected to arrive on the following 
 Monday or Tuesday. 
 
 Then I began to think over the chances of all the 
 others in the race and I confess that I was terribly 
 afraid of Berrill, who only had to give his proper 
 running to be a great danger ; in fact I had an idea 
 then and afterwards that he might have won the 
 double, penalty and all, but he was fiddled about by 
 curious riding in the Cesarewitch and I thought it just 
 possible that he might turn cunning in consequence. 
 
 Before Codoman arrived I had persuaded Mr George 
 Edwardes to let me have Santoi, then a three-year-old, 
 who had not shown to any great advantage up to then. 
 
 182 
 
Waiter Davis 
 
 The Trainer of Santoi 
 
SANTOI AS TRIAL HORSE 
 
 I wanted him at Chaloner's place, and I begged Mr 
 Edwardes to let me take charge of him for the week 
 before he was due to run in an engagement on the first 
 day. 
 
 The week before the Cambridgeshire was practically 
 devoted to looking after the pair of them. They had 
 easy work for a day or two, and then one morning they 
 were given a rough up. I was on Codoman and a lad 
 on Santoi. I let the two horses kid each other that 
 one could beat the other ; as a matter of fact they 
 were about as level as two horses could be : but 
 Codoman finished in front. I had a great opinion 
 of Santoi — in fact a much greater liking than Mr 
 Edwardes had. I told my friends too what I thought 
 of Codoman's chance win and place, and there were 
 packets of money put on him each way ; in fact nearly 
 every wager was on those lines. 
 
 The day of the race approached, Santoi was in the 
 Select Stakes at Newmarket and after a little per- 
 suasion Mr Edwardes agreed to run him but at first 
 declined to back him. He said : " According to you 
 it was a sort of fake gallop, not a trial, and Codoman 
 was just as good ; that isn't much of a test to risk a 
 lot of money on." 
 
 I told him what a good horse Codoman was, and at 
 that moment I was convinced Santoi could win, for I 
 had begun to have an enormous opinion of him ; I 
 have referred to him in a former chapter of the book 
 as being one of the two best I have ever ridden in my 
 life. At last I induced Mr Edwardes to have a big bet, 
 and I was not going to be a loser myself. 
 
 The whole thing was nearly coming undone at the 
 post : Santoi was impossible : he fiddled me about, 
 and when the starter sent us off he stood right still, and 
 the others were a hundred yards away before I could 
 
 183 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 induce him to get a move on. There was nothing for 
 it but to be patient and canter after them. He made 
 up none of the leeway in the first furlongs, but after 
 that things seemed brighter. I would take a pull at 
 him and then he would pull away from me and I let 
 the reins slip through my fingers as if he had beaten 
 me. I played nonsense with him, and he was tickled 
 to death. Then he caught hold of his bit and began 
 to act : he looked ahead of him and moved as if he 
 would show me what he could do. I didn't need to 
 bother him after that, for he thought he had me beaten 
 and would teach me. We had made up about fifty 
 yards and there never was a horse to move as he did 
 rising out of the dip. All those who had backed him 
 thought he was beaten anyhow, when they saw him 
 left, but in the end he came along like a steam engine, 
 passed everything in the last hundred and fifty yards 
 and won anyhow. It was one of the most extraordinary 
 races imaginable, as anyone who saw it may remember. 
 
 The Cambridgeshire looked so much better for 
 Codoman after this that, with the pile of money heaped 
 on him that night in addition to everything which had 
 gone on before, it was a wonder that such a good price 
 as 100 to 7 was procurable on the day of the race. I 
 had thought of Berrill a few days before, but on the day 
 of the race I was not afraid of any other of the runners. 
 
 Mr Luckman has told me a lot about the talk which 
 was supposed to have taken place in the jockeys' room 
 before and after the race, but what I have stated to 
 him in conversation I should like to repeat to every- 
 one who reads this. At no period of that afternoon 
 did I speak to anygne except Maher, who said to me 
 after the race : " I wish mine had won ; I had a promise 
 of five thousand dollars if he had." 
 
 I answered him : " You can put mine in pounds and a 
 
 184 
 
LONG DELAY AT POST 
 
 great deal more than five thousand." As a matter of 
 fact I should have been rich for life. 
 
 But to deal with the race : we went down to the post 
 and it will be remembered there was a fifty-minutes' 
 delay, during which of course Codoman was carrying 
 8-10 continuously, whereas Berrill, a four-year-old, 
 had only 7-9. When we got off at last, after that weary 
 time with my chance getting less and less, I could see 
 that Berrill had the lot of us easily beaten ; in fact he 
 had only to win in any way he liked. However, he 
 went all over the course or he could have won by 
 twenty lengths instead of the four which if I remember 
 rightly the judge placed him in front of me. There 
 was no question of hard luck in the incidents of the 
 race : Berrill was an absolute certainty as it proved. 
 I have no hesitation in repeating that he could have 
 won the Cesarewitch easily. Codoman had run a good 
 horse but we couldn't reckon on one like the winner. 
 As it was I was not at all a loser over the race, for like 
 a great many I had netted a good sum on balance 
 through getting 8 to 1, 7 to 1 and other odds to big 
 mounts for a place, which was something to be 
 grateful for. 
 
 I am told that after the race I abused Thompson 
 who rode Berrill. I had never seen him before, and I 
 have never done so since, but I can state with all due 
 regard to truth that I never uttered a word to him in 
 my life. The good thing hadn't come off ; that's all. 
 Well there was the usual talk about my having done 
 this, that and the other, but apart from natural dis- 
 appointment at not winning an important event, I 
 looked upon it quite as an ordinary race in the natural 
 excitement of others which were to follow in the next 
 two racing days at Newmarket. There had been 
 twenty-four runners and M. Ephrussi, I am sure, 
 
 185 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 thought that everjrthing possible had been done with 
 his horse but he had met another much better at the 
 weights. Berrill was receiving a year and 13 lb., 
 and has proved at the stud that he was a horse of class. 
 His owner had a dead certainty in him and the wonder 
 is that he was ever allowed to start at 20 to 1. Many 
 of us could have kicked ourselves afterwards that he 
 was allowed to run loose without a saving investment. 
 After the Cambridgeshire the clouds began to get a 
 little darker, and there were little rumours about that 
 I was to be asked certain questions by the Stewards, 
 but I did not pay a great amount of heed at the time 
 to the talk which was going round. What was the use 
 of worrying before it was necessary ? I had already 
 determined to finish the season with Newmarket. I 
 had not been in very good health, and I was convinced 
 that a rest would do me all the good in the world. I 
 did in fact cease riding for the season after the Friday. 
 
 i86 
 
CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 DARK CLOUDS 
 
 The Black Outlook — Riding Gallops — Losing ^20,000 — Sale of Mauvezin — 
 Lord Harewood's Advice — Throes of Unrest 
 
 On Thursday, the day after the Cambridgeshire was 
 run, the Stewards sent for me. I guessed what w^as 
 coming. They told me that it had come to their know- 
 ledge that I had some big bets on Codoman, and also 
 that I had been promised a present by a certain 
 gentleman if the horse won. I acknowledged both 
 things at once, and then they asked : 
 
 " Don't 5^ou know it's against the rules for a boy to 
 bet ? " 
 
 I explained that I thought it was all right — as it 
 was in America — for a jockey to back what he rode 
 himself but that it was all wrong if he backed any other 
 animal. I also admitted that Mr Frank Gardner had 
 promised me a handsome present, running into four 
 figures of money, in the event of my winning. 
 
 They reprimanded me, and I went out to ride as 
 usual, finishing up the week with the win on Encombe, 
 whom, as I have said, I advised King Edward — ^then 
 Prince of Wales — ^to back. 
 
 Returning at once to London I let myself loose on a 
 life of pleasure and I thoroughly enjoyed the change, 
 although naturally in a very few days I was physically 
 unfit. It didn't seem to matter though, as I had 
 announced — ^and it had been stated in the sporting 
 papers — that I was not to be in the saddle any more 
 that year. 
 
 187 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 But one morning, two days before the Liverpool 
 Cup, Lord Derby, then Lord Stanley, sent a letter 
 to me saying he wanted me to ride a mare of his 
 in that race. She had a nice light weight, and 
 they fancied her chance. Here was a dilemma ! I 
 replied most respectfully that I had finished my year's 
 riding at Newmarket, that I had been playing cards 
 until very late at night ; that I had been drinking 
 whiskys and sodas, and that I should neither do myself 
 justice nor would it be right in his own interests for me 
 to accept the mount, for the race might easily be 
 thrown away on account of my being quite out of 
 training. I expressed my deep regret and thanked his 
 lordship very much for the offer. I am afraid that 
 that letter of mine gave rise to considerable misunder- 
 standing. The mare ran with a boy on her back and 
 only lost by a head, so (although I say it myself) it 
 could be assumed that had I been at my best and 
 riding, she would have been first instead of second. 
 This is another explanation to add to what I have 
 already said to Lord Derby. 
 
 At the regular dinner at Newmarket when the topic 
 of Codoman was mentioned, the late Captain Machell 
 told Mr George Lambton that he had already backed 
 Codoman : " Sloan has put me on 33 fifties." 
 
 Of course this got about, even before the race. As 
 a matter of fact a lot of my money went on at 33 to 1, 
 and I had obliged the Captain with a share. I may 
 as well say here that the sum I should have cleaned 
 up had Codoman beaten Berrill was about sixty-six 
 thousand pounds. 
 
 There was another incident which happened that 
 year and which I fear prejudiced me. A member of 
 the Jockey Club came up and spoke to me as I was 
 going out to the paddock. He told me that he wanted 
 
 i88 
 
THE BLACK OUTLOOK 
 
 me to ride a horse of his the next day, and I answered — 
 I hope quite respectfully — that if he would wait I 
 would look at my book when I got back to the jockeys' 
 room. Of course I meant my engagement diary. He 
 said to me as he turned away, " I wait for no jockey ; 
 you won't have the chance again." Several times 
 after that I tried to get an opportunity of explaining to 
 him that it wouldn't have been right for me to accept 
 the engagement without making sure that I hadn't 
 promised to ride another horse. He would never 
 listen ; in fact, he would not even allow me to speak 
 to him. 
 
 All these things began to be talked about and thought 
 about too, and when I went to say good-bye to Lord 
 William Beresford at Carlton House Terrace he said 
 to me : 
 
 " Things look pretty black, little man, but we must 
 hope for the best." I answered that I would not be 
 discouraged : I couldn't believe that after the severe 
 reprimand they had given me the Stewards would 
 actually withhold my next year's licence. Still what 
 Lord William said naturally made me think. 
 
 I went over to America after three weeks in London 
 and rode in California, and on my way from the East and 
 stopping at Chicago I first got news of serious trouble. 
 I read in the papers there that it was announced that 
 the English Jockey Club had intimated to J. T. Sloan 
 that it was advisable for him not to apply for his 
 licence during that season of 1901. 
 
 There was a crusher ! All the same it did not imply 
 in any way that my number was up for many years to 
 come. I believed that if I lived quietly it would be all 
 right in the following year. 
 
 On getting back to England I was able to see some of 
 the comments made at the time by some of the news- 
 
 189 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 papers. One writer in the leading sporting paper said, 
 " Sloan is so valuable as a jockey that his absence 
 will be felt. That Sloan only followed the custom of 
 English jockeys in making the heavy bets which 
 formed one reason for his exclusion is apparent. With 
 those going to and fro from the race-course it came to 
 be a recognised thing that Sloan betted habitually, 
 and at times heavily. It would no doubt have been 
 difficult for a private person to have justified his 
 opinion by chapter and verse, but the Stewards of the 
 Jockey Club have means at their command for getting 
 at the truth of things ; in short they found that Sloan 
 has betted, also that he had accepted the offer of a large 
 present from Mr Frank Gardner in the event of his 
 winning the Cambridgeshire on Codoman ; and with 
 proof of these two offences before them they acted as 
 described. That many of our jockeys bet and not 
 always in half sovereigns there is reason for believing 
 and of all practices against the letter of the law this is 
 one which we can least afford to tolerate. It is not as 
 if a jockey always backed the horse he is riding, that 
 would imply an assurance that he would do his best to 
 win, but unfortunately the money is at times on some 
 other horse or against his own mounts, which is the 
 simplest form of making winning sure. Proof is not 
 always so easy as it appears to have been in Sloan's 
 case, and the firmness displayed by the Stewards will 
 engender caution." 
 
 I can swear that I never bet on anything but my 
 own mounts. I did not make a parade of it for obvious 
 reasons but what I told the Stewards was absolutely 
 correct — that I did not think the rules of English 
 racing were against a jockey supporting anything he 
 rode himself. Neither did I attempt in any way to 
 deny what they said to me about Mr Frank Gardner. 
 
 190 
 
RIDING GALLOPS 
 
 Another paper remarked that " So many excellent 
 people are convinced that the American contingent 
 were playing an underhand game that an exhaustive 
 inquiry is as necessary as welcome." 
 
 The following was fair comment perhaps, but didn't 
 do me any good : " I do not see anything objectionable 
 in a jockey betting on his mounts so long as he backs 
 a horse to win, but Sloan deserves a punishment which 
 has been inflicted on him for apparently advising Mr 
 F. Gardner to back Codoman for the Cambridgeshire 
 and accepting the offer of a large sum from that gentle- 
 man if the tip came off. This kind of interference with 
 another man's horse is highly objectionable, and the 
 Stewards are very properly resolved to stop such trans- 
 actions. Jockeys will not in future be disposed to 
 accept gifts from outsiders, but at one time such 
 presents were daily offered and accepted and fashion- 
 able riders did not disdain to receive them from 
 notorious sharps. The possibility of Sloan's return to 
 official favour in England is recognised in the following 
 extract : ' He had better apply himself to the correc- 
 tion and reformation of his manners and excesses, and 
 possibly he may get another licence in 1902 if he con- 
 ducts himself discreetly during the next year.' " 
 
 The best thing to do was a difficult thing to make 
 up one's mind about. I was torn two ways : I had 
 money and had an inclination towards a long holiday ; 
 yet I went to Newmarket, rode gallops (which I was 
 allowed to do) and generally kept myself to myself, 
 in the hope that the Stewards would relent, if not in 
 that season of 1901, at all events when the applications 
 came up for the following year. 
 
 I contracted the craze for motoring and in the 
 summer went over to France and was a good deal about 
 with Henri Fournier, who it will be remembered had 
 
 191 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 been a champion driver, winning among other prizes 
 the Paris-Bordeaux race, the Paris-Berhn, and the 
 Paris- Vienna. We had several quite long runs, and 
 then we paid a visit to Deauville, where of course there 
 was gambHng at the club — I had always been used to 
 playing, as previous chapters will show, and I did 
 not see any reason why I shouldn't continue. Neither 
 did I see why they wouldn't let me shoot pigeons at 
 Deauville, but there was some objection raised on the 
 ground that I didn't belong to any regular club, which 
 apparently was necessary to get me among those at the 
 
 traps. 
 
 I had several little set-backs of this kind which made 
 life a little bit dull at times. I used to debate with 
 myself whether to go back to England or not, but 
 decided eventually that France was better for the 
 moment. There I should not annoy anybody, and I 
 was not doing any harm in being adviser to an owner, 
 for I was allowed to ride and work in a stable but not 
 on a race-course — ^that is to say, I was forbidden to race 
 in colours. I met various people that summer and early 
 autumn, and Lord Carnarvon was good enough to 
 consult me several times with regard to French horses. 
 This led to the purchase of a few horses, including 
 Mauvezin, and the engagement of " Boots " Dumell 
 already mentioned. Things were going fairly well 
 and I was keeping my form. M. Charron was very 
 interested in learning race riding, so that he could 
 figure with other amateur jockeys. He too had been 
 a crack automobilist, having won the Gordon-Bennett 
 Cup, but nothing would content him until he learned 
 how to ride with the forward seat, in fact in my own 
 style. I began to show him what to do and he was a 
 very apt pupil. 
 
 It was at Deauville that I formed the idea of going 
 
 192 
 
LOSING £20,000 
 
 to America and taking Fournier with me with the 
 intention of starting a big automobile business. We 
 sailed about the middle of August, taking with us 
 two big INIors racers, one of which cost me fifty-five 
 thousand francs. There were also three other cars, 
 one a small one, which had won the Paris-Bordeaux 
 run. At the time I possessed sixty-two thousand 
 pounds in ready money, in addition to the investments 
 I had made in real estate in America, so it was a serious 
 proposition this automobile idea. The plan was to 
 get a company together and I was prepared to invest 
 a great part of my own money. Altogether to begin 
 with there were fifty thousand dollars invested in cars, 
 which were to be used as models in starting the 
 factory. 
 
 That trip was destined to be a disaster. In less 
 than a month I lost altogether about one hundred 
 thousand dollars or twenty thousand pounds. For a 
 commencement, there was forty-five per cent, duty 
 to be paid on the cars, and then Fournier w^as fined 
 heavily, a sum of seven thousand dollars (which I paid), 
 for undervaluating one of the cars with the customs. 
 They said that if one car cost fifty-five thousand francs 
 why didn't its fellow ? But the latter was sold to 
 Fournier at a big discount, because he had already 
 driven it. It actually cost only thirty-five thousand. 
 It was a good start-off. 
 
 Then I went racing and managed to lose thirty-one 
 thousand dollars in one day, and I also lost a packet 
 at cards. 
 
 The few horses at Maisons Laffitte had been left in 
 the charge of " Boots " Durnell, whose great idea was 
 that he could ride, whereas he couldn't. He was a 
 great man in the stable for all that. 
 
 One evening I actually refused ten thousand dollars 
 
 N 193 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 which was definitely offered for one of the cars. I 
 would have sold it but Fournier dissuaded me : 
 " What's the good of parting with it ? We shall only 
 have to send to France for another as a model to work 
 from." 
 
 There alone was lost two thousand pounds which 
 might have come to me out of the wreck. Ultimately 
 it was pawned and I never saw a dollar of its value. 
 
 To make a long story short I never for one cause or 
 another enjoyed so much as a wheel of those automo- 
 biles. For instance one was smashed up by Fournier 
 who was showing a party of newspaper men how he 
 could race a locomotive and who got it on a level- 
 crossing. The car and the train met. Fortunately 
 no one was killed. 
 
 The cause of my going back to Europe was that one 
 morning I got a cable from Mr Felix Oppenheim : 
 " Come at once Durnell warned off." I took ship 
 immediately and discovered on arrival that Durnell, 
 insisting on riding when I had repeatedly told him not 
 to, had actually been put on foot for incompetency. 
 He had been left at the post or something and the 
 Stewards took a serious view of it. I am quite sure 
 he meant nothing wrong and it was only his vanity 
 in thinking he was a jockey which brought it all about. 
 The results had to be put up with though and I had to 
 see about looking after the horses for their autumn 
 engagements. They belonged to Charron, Baron 
 Leonino, Felix Oppenheim, Lord Carnarvon and Mr 
 Debsay. We had only paid eleven thousand francs 
 for Mauvezin, Charron and I going halves in him. I 
 wrote to Lord Carnarvon telling him I had a good 
 horse and he had better come and see him. When we 
 bought him we were told that he couldn't stay more 
 than five furlongs, but the improvement made in him 
 
 194 
 
SALE OF IMAUVEZIN 
 
 was wonderful. Lord Carnarvon said he would take 
 him off our hands if we would let him, and wrote a 
 cheque there and then for eleven thousand francs. 
 That was about two months before, when I had first 
 brought over Durnell to France. We won six straight 
 races with him, winning a big handicap at Maisons 
 Lafiitte, the horse carrying top weight. I may as well 
 finish about Mauvezin here. When he had got to the 
 top of the handicap he was no longer much use in 
 France, so he went over to R. C. Dawson's place at 
 Wliatcombe. 
 
 I shall always think we ought to have won the 
 Lincolnshire Handicap, but he didn't get too well away 
 and nearly fell at the crossing when half-way home. 
 
 It was curious how several of us missed winning a 
 packet over the horse when he took the Stewards' Cup. 
 I had miscalculated the day, and was at the Hotel 
 Cecil about half-past twelve on the Tuesday with 
 Mr Murray Griffith, who had always been a good friend 
 to me. I told him of the chance of Mauvezin and 
 that I was going down to Goodwood to put a lot of 
 money on him. He looked up at the clock : 
 
 " You will have to hurry up to be there even three 
 hours after the race is run ; they'll be off in about two 
 hours." 
 
 There was nothing for it but to grin and bear it, but 
 we got busy with the starting price offices and managed 
 one way and the other to get on one hundred and fifty 
 pounds, which wasn't so bad in the circumstances, 
 for he started at 10 to 1. I was glad that Lord 
 Carnarvon won a big stake over the success. I don't 
 suppose anyone ever had such a bargain for four 
 hundred and forty pounds. 
 
 Another horse Lord Carnarvon bought in France 
 was Londres, a great big animal over seventeen hands 
 
 195 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 high, who was addicted to breaking blood vessels, but 
 he never did so after he came with us, and scored over 
 and over again. He ought to have won the Grand 
 Prix de Nice but somehow Maclntyre who rode him 
 was not in happy mood that day. He led all the way 
 until on the post he was just caught by a good horse, 
 Retz, ridden by George Stem. Another nice horse 
 was Misadventure, for whom we paid five thousand 
 francs and sold for twenty thousand francs. Londres 
 was also a great bargain at seven thousand francs. 
 
 I must not forget that there was some compensation 
 for the disappointment over Goodwood. A French- 
 man had come over with me, a man well known in 
 Paris, who couldn't speak a word of English. Perched 
 on the top of his head was the smallest Panama hat 
 ever worn by a grown-up man. He was the success 
 on the Wednesday afternoon at Goodwood. Society 
 people and others forgot their manners and came to 
 the paddock to see the sight. It was great value. 
 
 Of course in that Autumn of 1901 I had seriously to 
 consider what was to be done after the big losses I had 
 made in America, but acquiring these bargains in 
 horses and winning money over them too brought me 
 to the conclusion that sticking to my own business — 
 horses — was perhaps far and away the best thing to 
 do. We had Max Lebaudy's old house at Maisons 
 Laffitte, and there used to be great consultations about 
 probable purchases and how they should be placed to 
 win. Several of my friends suggested that I should 
 go on with ownership and superintend training, and 
 certainly I knew in riding gallops that I hadn't lost a 
 bit of form. 
 
 Not a word had been said about my not getting a 
 licence for the following year, so I stuck on full of hope 
 that the Stewards would not keep the bar up for ever. 
 
 196 
 
LORD HARE WOOD'S ADVICE 
 
 After the season finished in France I went to Egypt 
 with Skeets Martin and had the usual tourist's hoHday. 
 I suppose my impressions about Egypt are not worth 
 anything but I am going to say that to me the place 
 was the greatest disappointment — but perhaps that 
 was my own want of appreciation. I often wished 
 that we had chosen Switzerland or Monte Carlo, in fact 
 anywhere else. 
 
 In the month of February no official intimation had 
 reached me but I heard indirectly that there was a 
 grave doubt about the licence ; this was when I w^ent 
 to England in the early spring. One day in the 
 paddock at Newmarket Lord Harewood said to me : 
 " Sloan, what do you want to bother about riding for ? 
 You've got plenty of money. Why don't you settle 
 down to a gentleman's life ? Buy a stable of horses 
 and run them. That's far and away the best thing 
 you can do." 
 
 Of course I thought it over but still I couldn't bring 
 myself to believe that they would keep me out all the 
 season. If I had known then what I learnt in after 
 years, that my indiscretions were to be reckoned 
 against me for half some people's lifetime, the whole 
 course of my life and investments would have been 
 different. With sixty thousand pounds odd and other 
 property I might have done really well, but frankly I 
 felt that other sources of income would be open to 
 me very shortly so I was careless about that useful 
 amount. How I cursed that trip to America ! 
 
 At Newmarket in the spring of 1902 I had rooms 
 near the station. They were very handy for going 
 out and riding gallops. Most of these I did for Robert 
 Sherwood of St Gatien House, and I never felt better 
 in my life. Then I began to notice that a few New- 
 market trainers had developed a rather cool manner 
 
 197 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 toward me. They did not seem to know whether they 
 were in order if they put me up in a trial or rough up. 
 As a matter of fact, as I have explained, there was 
 nothing against my taking part in anything of the 
 kind, for the Stew^ards had said that I could do so. 
 Well, I went on trying my best by every possible 
 means to reinstate myself in favour and at that time 
 I had become more accustomed to Newmarket than 
 at any previous period. 
 
 Several times I was inclined to take the friendly tip 
 given me by Lord Harewood and definitely to give up 
 any idea of riding again and to settle down as an owner. 
 Possibly I should have got a licence to train my own 
 animals. But I was only about twenty-seven years 
 old and was sure that I could ride as well or better 
 than ever, and the money to be made as a jockey was 
 far in excess of anything it was possible to make with 
 any stable I could set up. Then too I was occasion- 
 ally possessed by the spirit of roving or travel. Should 
 I go away again ? I had been here, there and every- 
 where. It was not pleasant, however, to give up 
 racing under the stigma that I had to retire without a 
 jockey's licence. If a licence had only been procur- 
 able, I do believe on looking back that I should have 
 been quite willing to give an undertaking not to avail 
 myself of it ! 
 
 The majority of my friends stuck to me through all 
 this and that cheered me more than can be said. But 
 they were not really happy days. The more inquiries 
 were made as to the possibility of getting my ticket 
 back again the more undecided seemed the situation. 
 It was a sickening business too when in London having 
 to reply to all sorts of people — some of whom I had 
 scarcely ever met — as to what I was going to do. The 
 truth was, I didn't know, and I felt rather inclined to 
 
 198 
 
THROES OF UNREST 
 
 give rough answers when quite strangers, especially 
 Americans, became too inquisitive. Some presumed 
 on a casual chat to ask me to tell the whole story over 
 again. To begin with I couldn't have done so, for it 
 was a whole combination of circumstances, as I have 
 explained, which led up to the action the Stewards took. 
 
 The number of nights which were spent trying to 
 make up my mind I can't count, but plans made when 
 lying awake were quite upset by a few words of en- 
 couragement the next day given by serious friends who 
 knew I supposed what they were talking about. 
 
 I do not know whether this is all sufficiently clear, 
 but the only way I can describe it is that, what with 
 hope and fear, in 1902 I was going through H-E-L-L. 
 
 199 
 
CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 NABOT 
 
 The Late King Leopold— All from Five Francs— Off to shoot Pigeons 
 
 After passing through several weeks of the spring of 
 1902 in England I could see no reason for stopping on 
 there, and I went back to France and spent my time 
 giving advice and helping in the running of horses 
 owned by Charron. But there was no money in it and 
 losses over betting accumulated until I really had some 
 cause for worry. Nevertheless, a good day would put 
 me in heart again, and during the important weeks in 
 England I had a few really profitable days and my 
 banking account was by no means exhausted. In 
 July I bought a big 90-horse power Panhard for two 
 thousand pounds, and also a smaller Mors car of 15 h.p. 
 Pinson, who had been the mechanic during the Paris- 
 Vienna race which this big power car had won, was 
 my chauffeur although I usually drove the bigger car 
 myself. I took both cars to Deauville and Dieppe 
 for their seasons in August. 
 
 The expenses were very heavy, for at the Hotel de 
 Paris at Trouville — which little town of course every- 
 one knows adjoins Deauville — nothing else would do 
 for me but the best suite in the house. Tliere were 
 " others " to pay for, including a valet, the chauffeur 
 and other servants. The expenses totted up to a 
 very big amount. However, I suppose when we are 
 gambling we do not pay much attention to a little 
 matter like daily expenses. I have been to a good 
 
 200 
 
THE LATE KING LEOPOLD 
 
 many places, however, and not spent so much 
 money. 
 
 This reminds me of when I was once at the Grand 
 Union Hotel at Saratoga for the races. I had got 
 my apartment before the season began. Mr August 
 Belmont arrived and made a little fuss about paying 
 twenty-five dollars a day for his room or rooms, but 
 the manager, much to my disgust as I didn't want to 
 be too much in the limelight, said : " Oh no, sir, I assure 
 you I am not asking too much, especially to a gentle- 
 man of your position, for Mr Tod Sloan is paying more 
 than twenty-five dollars a day." 
 
 It was at Trouville that I had the honour of being 
 spoken to several times by the late King Leopold of 
 the Belgians. He had the next table to ours and would 
 speak across to me about various topics. He never 
 said much, but it was all in a kindly way and he never 
 failed to recognise me, whoever he was with. There 
 was another stupid story put in circulation at Trouville 
 which found its way over to the American papers. It 
 was a pure invention but it told, unintentionally 
 perhaps, to my discredit. Beyond question I had 
 one of the best tables in the big restaurant at the 
 Hotel de Paris and some American journalist told a 
 yarn that King Leopold had gone to the hotel manager 
 requesting that a certain table, meaning mine, should 
 be reserved for him. The manager was made to reply : 
 " I am very sorry, your Majesty, and I hope you will in 
 your kindness accept my apology, but I let that table 
 that you want to Mr Tod Sloan and I cannot turn him 
 out." 
 
 It was a stupid story to invent, but many people 
 who did not like me began to repeat it, making me 
 out what I really wasn't. I should like to see any 
 hotel manager refusing the request of such a guest as 
 
 201 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 King Leopold ! Besides I was not quite so far gone 
 that I would not have given up any table to even a less 
 distinguished personage. 
 
 Well, Trouville had its joys and sorrows, the former 
 being the social part of it. There were bad runs at the 
 races and in the " bank " at the club of the Casino. 
 The gambling habit I could not cure myself of : in 
 fact a distraction of this kind became almost a necessity 
 to me, for the fact of being without any licence was 
 telling more and more heavily on me. It seemed so 
 terrible that, although I had just as much confidence in 
 myself as ever, I was debarred from making my living 
 at the one thing I was good at. Motoring about the 
 country was pleasant enough and I made new friends, 
 but it was all rather aimless and it was a welcome break 
 to get away to Dieppe for a week or ten days there. 
 We all motored of course. 
 
 It was at Dieppe that I had rather wonderful 
 experience of good and bad luck. One evening with 
 about eighteen thousand francs in my pocket I joined 
 in a baccarat bank with Mr " Solly " Joel and Mr 
 Henning. In about an hour and a half we cleared over 
 one thousand pounds each. Wlien we had cut it up 
 Mr Joel and Mr Henning went off to the DoriSt the 
 former's yacht, but like a fool I stayed on and, not 
 content with my winnings, of course I had to join in the 
 bank again. And I lost every cent both of the one 
 thousand pounds and of the seven hundred pounds odd 
 with which, as I have explained, I began the evening. 
 I got up from the table feeling pretty sick and went 
 and had a drink. Feeling in my pocket I found I had 
 exactly seven francs. One franc paid for the brandy 
 I was drinking ; a franc I put aside for the cloakroom 
 attendant. I was determined to go home without a 
 sou, so I put the remaining five-franc piece on the 
 
 202 
 
ALL FROM FIVE FRANCS 
 
 gaming-table as I went out, intending to throw it away 
 and not to think anything more of it. As a matter of 
 fact I didn't see the first coup, but on looking round 
 saw that there were two " cartwheels " where I had 
 only thrown one. I determined to leave them and the 
 stake went on doubling up until there were eight louis 
 or one hundred and sixty francs. Of these I left five, 
 taking off three for odd expenses. Again I won, and 
 yet again, but the second time at another table. 
 Then of course I had enough to join in a small 
 bank again. In another hour I had cashed in 
 twenty-seven thousand francs, which left me again 
 a good winner on the evening. It was a remark- 
 able performance and rivals many of the yarns one 
 hears about gamblers' luck, for it all came from that 
 five francs. If when I was having my brandy I had 
 met a friend or two I dare say I should have offered 
 them drinks and my five francs would have gone. 
 But such was my luck that I was left to drink alone ! 
 
 It was in the autumn of that year that I had a great 
 deal to do with the preparation of the Count de 
 Bresson's grey horse Nabot. He was in the Cam- 
 bridgeshire with 7 stone. Nabot was then a three-year- 
 old and one of the fastest I had ever come across. It 
 had not been discovered whether he could stay well 
 enough, but one morning I gave him a fast gallop 
 over a mile, in which he came out well. It was there- 
 fore determined that Nabot should be sent to New- 
 market. He was at a real good price. In fact he 
 started at 20 to 1 owing to the run on the eventual 
 winner, Ballantrae. Although the latter won com- 
 fortably I have no hesitation in saying that Nabot 
 should have done so. His jockey, an American boy 
 named Thompson, riding in France, didn't know the 
 course well enough. In consequence the grey could 
 
 203 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 only finish third. We backed him to win a fortune but 
 as luck would have it some of us quit good winners by 
 having as much on for a place as to win. So it was not 
 altogether a failure. 
 
 It is curious what a fateful race the Cambridgeshire 
 has been to me. First St Cloud II. ; then I was left 
 on Nunsuch; the Codoman trouble; and then just 
 missing first place with Nabot when it was so import- 
 ant to me. I have no doubt what I have said about 
 the French horse may be quarrelled with by many 
 English critics, but personally I was never so sure 
 about anything as his winning. I am not excusing 
 myself in the matter for I didn't ride him. However, 
 it is no use thinking too much about it. It is so long 
 ago. 
 
 As may be remembered Nabot was bought for two 
 thousand guineas, if I remember rightly, by Sir John 
 Blundell Maple. Sir John came to me in the paddock 
 in Newmarket and asked whether I thought him a nice 
 horse to buy. Of course I said yes. He also asked 
 whether the horse had been doped, and I answered 
 that to the best of my knowledge the horse had never 
 been given anything in his racing career. There were 
 a good many stories about at the time as to doping, 
 and I believe poor Alec Waugh, who managed Sir J. B. 
 Maple's horses, was firmly convinced that Nabot 
 had been, and thought his owner had a very dear 
 bargain. 
 
 I should like to say another word about Thompson. 
 He was a very good rider in France but he never 
 seemed to give his best performances in England. 
 Certainly he won the City and Suburban in 1903 on 
 Brambilla, but I think Robert Denman, who trained 
 Mr Edmond Blanc's Vinicius (second to Rock Sand in 
 1903), was one of the most disappointed men at Epsom 
 
 204 
 
OFF TO SHOOT PIGEONS 
 
 that day. Still full credit should be given to the jockey 
 for his French performances. 
 
 I hung on in France to the end of the racing season 
 but then I went down to Monte Carlo, chiefly on 
 account of the pigeon-shooting. 
 
 205 
 
CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 AT THE TRAPS 
 
 Cleaning up 100,000 Francs — Laying and Backing — Various Good Shots 
 
 I HAD the taste for firearms even when a very young 
 boy. I used to fire off a gun, a small single-barrelled 
 muzzle-loader, when I was about ten years old, and 
 then, proceeding by easy stages, shooting at rabbits, 
 squirrels, and birds, until when I was about thirteen 
 I managed to get hold of a great purchase, a very tiny 
 double-barrelled breech-loader which nevertheless did 
 quite good work. My eye became trained and I began 
 to think that eventually something much greater could 
 be done. But I knew little or nothing about pigeon- 
 shooting, never even having seen a picture of it. 
 
 Going along from year to year there was always 
 plenty of sport to be had especially during the winters 
 out in California, but it wasn't until the winter of 1900 
 that I had my first go at the traps. All things con- 
 sidered the result was quite good, and I acquired the 
 taste. It has never been shaken off since. I had 
 other chances of practice but my big pigeon-shooting 
 season was to be in those early days of 1903 in that trip 
 to Monte Carlo. I won the Grand Prix du Littoral of 
 ten thousand francs, and a big gold medal, killing 
 thirteen birds out of thirteen. 
 
 It was rather curious how I got into that prize. 
 I went down to make my entry and things having 
 gone badly at the tables I discovered I hadn't got 
 twenty francs in my pocket. I met Crittenden 
 
 206 
 

 X -^^ 
 
 "^ 
 
 <i. 
 
 z '^ 
 
 I:::; 'o 
 
CLEANING UP 100,000 FRANCS 
 
 Robinson — the great shot — ^and said to him : " Got any 
 money ? " 
 
 He gave me his pocket-book saying : "Help yourself," 
 but I only took the two hundred francs that I wanted 
 to pay for the entries. Coming off the ground I met 
 George Cooper, who was making a book on the event. 
 I took 50 to 1 from him to ten louis about myself. 
 
 Before going into the story of how I won I should 
 like to say that fortune never comes singlehanded, for 
 with a little money I went to the rooms that evening 
 and, starting off with three straight roulette bets, w^ent 
 back to the Hermitage Hotel that night and locked up 
 with the cashier a hundred thousand francs. Every 
 word of this is literally correct. I had no money at all 
 before — nothing but jewellery. 
 
 The runners up to me in the Prix du Littoral were 
 Count Filippi and M. Brasseur with twelve out of 
 thirteen. Tliere were sixty-three guns altogether. 
 When I had shot my tenth bird overtures were made 
 to me to divide, one French shooter saying that I could 
 have half the pool but that one of their division w^ould 
 have to take the medal. Several Englishmen present 
 who knew about this came to me and said : " You're 
 the only English-speaking one left in the event, go 
 right through with it. Don't give them a chance of 
 thinking they can beat you ! " And go through with 
 it I did, with the result already known. There were 
 many little expenses in connection with that prize. 
 For instance, fifty francs to the man who picked up 
 the last bird I had shot, and a bill that night of 
 one thousand four hundred francs for dinner. They 
 seemed to have a bottle of champagne to each person 
 with each course, and the out-of-season things some of 
 them asked for and managed to get surprised even 
 those who knew Monte Carlo pretty well. Of course 
 
 207 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 too there were little presents to " others." Two ladies 
 claimed the wings of that last pigeon between them, 
 and each wing had to be mounted on a hat to suit the 
 wearers — but that was a trifle. 
 
 On going into the Rooms the night of winning the 
 Prix du Littoral I was given a message to go over to 
 the Trente et Quarante game to cut the cards for " an 
 eminent personage." I said I wouldn't go unless I 
 knew who it was. 
 
 " You had better come, monsieur : it's the Grand 
 Duke Michael." 
 
 " Wlio ? " I asked, not hearing very well, and then 
 he repeated the name and of course I went at once. 
 The Grand Duke received me very graciously and said 
 some nice things to which I hope I replied with proper 
 modesty. Here was another Royal or rather Imperial 
 personality for me to meet. 
 
 I shall alwavs think it rather bad luck that I missed 
 a " place " in the Grand Prix du Casino that was 
 decided a few weeks before. There was a bit of a 
 wrangle over the ninth bird by Baron de Lossy. (He 
 is dead now, God bless him !) He called me down for 
 crying " No bird." But I was quite right and Lord 
 Savile came to my rescue by declaring : " Wliatever is 
 said he'll have another bird at all events." All this 
 trouble, which was quite unjustifiable, as very many 
 who shot in the event can testify to-day, made me 
 very nervous, for before it occurred I had absolute 
 confidence in myself and was shooting in great form. 
 "Wlien I had my tenth bird it was not unnatural that I 
 was a bit shaky but I just dragged it down. There 
 were very few left in and I killed the eleventh bird in 
 clean style. Then came the twelfth. I had recovered 
 my nerve by this time and was almost certain that I 
 had notched another point, but it just fell on to the 
 
 208 
 
LAYING AND BACKING 
 
 top of the rail and into the sea instead of dropping on 
 the right side. I had killed eRven out of twelve, and 
 with any ordinary luck I should have had the twelfth. 
 It may be remembered that the winner was Pellier 
 Johnston with nineteen birds straight, Mackintosh 
 being second with eighteen out of nineteen, two 
 others tying for the third place with seventeen out 
 of eighteen ; then several of us were level with eleven 
 out of twelve. 
 
 I was shooting with a gun I had bought for two 
 hundred pounds in Bond Street, London, and my 
 success spoke well for the cartridges made by the 
 Coopal Company of Belgium. 
 
 There were other bits of money picked up that 
 season by shooting at Monte Carlo. Thiebaux was the 
 biggest layer, and I suppose George Cooper of the 
 English division made some of the biggest bets. 
 Charlie Hannam mixed it, some days laying and other 
 days backing. I should like to have all the money 
 which he has lost over pigeon-shooting in one way and 
 the other ; still, it is all part of his winter holiday so I 
 suppose he doesn't mind ! 
 
 Various little things annoyed me that winter, but it 
 was very likely because I was over-sensitive after what 
 had occurred in England. 
 
 Certainly the English lot were very nice and sym- 
 pathetic but many of the Frenchmen and Italians 
 seemed to go on the lines that I hadn't received my 
 licence from the English Jockey Club, and although 
 they were outwardly polite they were inclined to be 
 snubby. If I had the money to go in it wasn't their 
 business of course, for by this time I wasn't a jockey 
 but a private citizen with a certain reserve of assets, 
 and in any case I was not a professional pigeon-shot 
 as many of those were to whom the French and 
 o 209 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 Italians were civil. Still it didn't matter much. I 
 had my own bunch to talk to and was having a good 
 time anyway. 
 
 I was continually impressed with the different 
 personalities shooting at Monte Carlo. I should say 
 the majority who read this book will know of Mackin- 
 tosh, the Australian, and Crittenden Robinson, the 
 Californian ; the former was I suppose the more 
 brilliant shot but Robinson had that extra stamina 
 which would last him out in a tough battle, and he was 
 an older man too. He used to give me many tips. 
 That season Mackintosh shot eight hundred and forty- 
 six pigeons out of nine hundred and ninety, while 
 Robinson had a score of eight hundred and eighty-five 
 out of one thousand and sixty-four. The winner of 
 the Grand Prix du Casino, Pellier Johnston, was not 
 shooting much and scored thirty-five out of thirty-nine. 
 I only had four hundred and thirty birds with three 
 hundred and fourteen kills. 
 
 I shall always think that Harry Roberts is one of the 
 soundest shots I ever saw, and perhaps he can take the 
 honours among the Englishmen. I have always heard 
 from real good judges that perhaps the greatest man 
 who ever shot pigeons was a Captain Brewer, but I never 
 saw him. Crosby, who came from somewhere in Iowa 
 and was known as " Tobacco Bill," was a marvellous 
 man with a gun. He had a peculiar habit of squirting 
 a big mouthful of tobacco which he had in his cheek 
 at the very moment of crying " pull " to the man at 
 the traps. Perhaps when this book is reviewed and 
 some of the critics are as kind as they can be to it, 
 they may be able to supplement my suggestions with 
 additional information about those I write of. 
 
 By the way one of the most remarkable shots 
 especially among young men was a Californian who 
 
 210 
 
Pkixce Pomatowski and Tod Sloan at the Traps 
 
 A caricature hv Sciii 
 
VARIOUS GOOD SHOTS 
 
 came over to Europe when he was only twenty years 
 of age, perhaps even less. His name was Clarence 
 Norman. I am told by many who should know that 
 he was very likely the best pigeon-shot who ever lived. 
 I know that Crittenden Robinson thought Norman 
 was in a class absolutely by himself, and this coming 
 from such a great shot as Robinson was acknowledged 
 to be an opinion worth remembering. 
 
 It has always struck me that while there might be 
 an age limit for other sports there is no age limit for 
 pigeon-shots. 
 
 Take Harry Roberts for instance : he has kept his 
 form in the most extraordinary way. Another re- 
 markable instance was that of Baron de Dordolot. 
 Several men of over fifty who were shooting at Monte 
 Carlo used to call the Baron " Pop," signifying that he 
 was a generation older than themselves. This wonder 
 among veterans, in his limited shooting in the season 
 I have been writing about, killed one hundred and 
 ninety-two out of two hundred and forty-two birds. 
 Prince Poniatowski, another veteran, could shoot well. 
 " Sem " the French caricaturist drew a remarkable 
 picture of the Prince, who was a very tall thin man, 
 carrying a very small gun, while he depicted me with a 
 weapon as long as a rifle carried in any old warfare. 
 " Sem " said himself that this drawing was one of the 
 happiest things he ever did. 
 
 Perhaps the shooter who impressed me more than 
 any other was Baron de Montpellier. He had a good 
 record that season, winning six first prizes and two 
 seconds. But that was not so much the point. He 
 was such a picturesque and stylish shot ; he could put 
 in the most wonderful finger work on his gun. Every- 
 one would be all attention when he walked out to 
 shoot. The two shots would be as near as possible 
 
 211 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 simultaneous ; you would see one puff follow the other 
 in a flash and would hardly realise what space of a 
 second there was between the first and second. Yet 
 there were two separate aims calculated in a way that 
 would have made him a prize gunner on any warship. 
 He was an impressive figure and my recollection of him 
 is as fresh to-day as it was then. 
 
 Mention of Prince Poniatowski reminds me that his 
 son in California showed me the greatest kindness 
 when I was out there in January 1901. There was a 
 lot of talk to the effect that I hadn't yet got back my 
 licence in England, but he paid little attention to it : 
 " I am president of the Ingleside track and Sloan can 
 ride here— that's all." And I did, but I did not ride 
 at Oaklands, also in California, that season nor after- 
 wards. 
 
 I have mentioned in an earlier chapter that Butiaio 
 Bill had spoken to me when I was a little child. I 
 met him very frequently in after years and he would 
 always encourage any ambition of mine in the way of 
 shooting, recommending me to take up trick shooting. 
 But to me there never seemed any money in that kind 
 of work, at all events at my age. Colonel Cody can be 
 ranked as one of the greatest trick shots who ever lived. 
 I never met nor saw the great Captain Bogardus, who 
 was remarkable in his time, and there were plenty of 
 others I did not come across either. A lot of men 
 have sprung up in the pigeon - shooting world who 
 were in reality professionals, boosters for powder 
 companies who paid all their expenses. There was no 
 status of the amateur about them. But shooting has 
 been a semi-profession with so many that it is not 
 advisable to go too deeply into the matter. I do not 
 want to offend anyone. 
 
 212 
 
CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 " Sloan's chance hopeless " 
 
 To try Rose de Mai — Maitre Labori — "Mr Mean" — No Friendship in Racing 
 
 After leaving Monte Carlo in that spring of 1903 I 
 still had the hope that my licence would be forthcom- 
 ing — but it wasn't of course. A little time before my 
 spirits had been raised by some encouragement I had 
 had to the effect that the French Societe might give 
 me a licence to ride in France. Mr George Edwardes 
 told me to call on a certain distinguished authoress and 
 playwright. We met in her home in the Avenue du 
 Bois de Boulogne ; she spoke English well and was 
 very sympathetic in offering her assistance on my 
 behalf with certain distinguished people. From time 
 to time I heard how things were going ; they seemed 
 to spell success for the efforts that were being made. 
 Week followed week and still everything looked 
 promising. One day I received a message that a 
 certain friend of hers — a man — was to meet two men 
 of importance at a minor race meeting, that it was 
 expected that the matter would be settled then and 
 that a telegram should be sent off that very afternoon. 
 It arrived with the fateful words 
 
 "Sloan's chance hopeless Eugene 
 Leigh has won five races I " 
 
 That finished it. 
 
 All the stories as to my efforts in 1900 to get a 
 licence for Leigh to train at Newmarket were raked 
 
 213 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 up in the end by backbiters and slanderers. Tlie 
 Americans were in bad enough odour and I was sup- 
 posed to be allied with Leigh from the moment he 
 came to Europe. It will be remembered that he 
 trained in the country in England. At that time a 
 trainer had only to have a licence when he wanted 
 to follow his calling at Newmarket. It was he and 
 one or two others who were the cause of a new rule 
 being passed by the English Jockey Club which makes 
 it compulsory for all trainers, whether at Newmarket 
 or elsewhere, to receive a Jockey Club licence. So 
 Leigh changed from England to France. While now 
 he is recognised everywhere as an individual and a 
 good trainer there was a tremendous amount of 
 " chat " in those days, and for some mysterious reason 
 whatever chance I had of getting my " ticket " was 
 all done in because of his success that afternoon. It 
 all seemed so trivial. 
 
 When in Monte Carlo I met Mr Raphael, well known 
 on the English Turf as an owner and breeder. He won 
 the Derby in 1912 with Tagalie. He told me that he 
 wanted me to ride a horse of his in the Derby, for he 
 had no doubt at that time my licence would be given 
 back to me. Such in fact was the general opmion 
 Mr Raphael told me : " There are many m favour ot 
 giving you back what you have so long missed. 
 However I was gradually driven to the realisation that 
 there was for the present at least nothing doing. 
 
 I began to turn my attention to motor-racmg and 
 was going to drive in the Paris-Madrid race but some- 
 how or other my car proved too heavy and my stake 
 money was sent back. I went down the road and 
 had a good look at it at various stages. It will be 
 remembered that there were a number of casualties 
 and the authorities would not let them go farther than 
 
 214 
 
TO TRY ROSE DE MAI 
 
 Bordeaux. Two lost their lives in this race, including 
 that charming man Loraine Barrow who was well 
 known both to the editor of this book and to me ; he 
 had his home at Biarritz where he was generally liked. 
 I had breakfast with him the day before he was killed 
 by the accident to his car. Charron took a party with 
 him including tw^o ladies in an ordinary touring car 
 and finished well up in the race. But then he was a 
 superb driver and had nerves of steel. He offered to 
 take me but I preferred to see them all go by at 
 different places. 
 
 It was my friendship for Charron which led to my 
 trouble with the Societe d'Encouragement. Charron 
 had no trainer but prepared various horses for himself 
 and others at Chantilly. The day before the Prix du 
 Diane he came to me in great trouble saying that Rose 
 de Mai had been suffering from a cold and begged me 
 to come down to have a look at her. Later in the day, 
 the ow^ner, w4io was a member of the Jockey Club, told 
 me in his curious English how good it was of me. 
 
 " Mr Charron has told me," he continued, " and I 
 cannot thank you in sufficient way. Ah, but it is 
 terrible, and you are a good man to be so kind." 
 
 I shall never forget the journey down to Chantilly 
 in the car for I had to give up the front seat to a lady 
 and I was frozen sitting at the back. Indeed I began 
 to think what an idiot I had been in coming for there 
 wasn't a shilling in it for me. The visit did lead to all 
 sorts of trouble as the sequel will show. We stayed 
 at the Conde for the night, and were up early. I had a 
 good look at the mare, a very handsome animal. She 
 coughed once or twice and slobbed at the nose. How- 
 ever, I got up on her and Charron rode Limonade, who 
 was her constant companion at exercise. There was 
 no intention to gallop them of course and we trotted to 
 
 215 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 get into the open having to cross the " Aigles " — a 
 particular gallop at Chantilly. There was nothing 
 done on this gallop at all ; in fact it was more a walk 
 out than anything. But we were seen in the distance 
 by several jockeys and trainers and it got about that we 
 had been on ground prohibited on Sunday. However 
 of that later. 
 
 On getting back I advised Charron and the owner to 
 let her take her chance, and gave Ransch who was to 
 ride her his instructions. He was not to knock her 
 about in any way but to let her slip along if she felt 
 like it. He was by no means to force her in any way 
 at all. Further I recommended Charron, who leaned 
 on my judgment, if she seemed any worse after the 
 race, to let her have a very long ease up. We heard a 
 little bit of talk during the morning as to having been 
 on the " Aigles " ; it appeared they had recognised 
 my seat on the mare, and the "horrible" story had 
 been repeated from one to the other. 
 
 The result of the race was that Rose de Mai won 
 easily, she had opened at 2 to 1 and gone out to 14 to 1 
 before the start. I never thought it worth having any- 
 thing on her for I didn't know then how moderate the 
 opposition was. I think Charron put on ten louis for 
 me or something in the " mutuel " but I can't recollect 
 exactly. 
 
 After the race M. Caillault, who was second, lodged 
 an objection on the score that I was the trainer of the 
 mare. The Stewards held a big pow-bow over it but 
 didn't disqualify. However for being on the " Aigles " 
 on a Sunday and in answer, I suppose, to the objection 
 they fined Charron a thousand francs, and warned me 
 off the saddling enclosure and jockeys' room — per- 
 manently. It was indeed a body blow. I couldn't 
 afford to have even the smallest thing against me at 
 
 2l6 
 
MAITRE LABORI 
 
 that time for it would all tell in the matter of my getting 
 a licence in France or any other country. Unfortun- 
 ately at that time I had no one to give me sound advice 
 or I might have taken a different course. Perhaps it 
 doesn't much matter now, but I had more anxiety at 
 the time than I care to remember. 
 
 In a hot-headed way I rushed in to clear myself and 
 brought an action against the Societe d'Encourage- 
 ment and claimed damages. I managed to retain the 
 great pleader, Maitre Labori. One of the most charm- 
 ing men I ever met in my life, he spoke to me in English 
 all the time. He told me I might win but I should get 
 nothing, and the case was bound to do me harm. 
 But I determined to go ahead and the records will show 
 that I got the verdict but with no damages. The 
 Societe on the other hand had to pay all the costs. 
 When I went off to America some time afterwards they 
 appealed and I didn't know anything about it, but 
 Maitre Labori took up the case and won the appeal — 
 again with costs. Thus the warning off from that 
 enclosure didn't hold. 
 
 The case cost me from start to finish about fifteen 
 thousand francs or six hundred pounds. The money 
 wanted a bit of finding at the time, and one morning 
 when it was absolutely necessary for me to put up 
 several thousand francs on account of costs I ran into 
 a well-known private bank in Paris with my available 
 jewellery, among which were seventeen tie pins, most of 
 them given me by owners. Among them was a large 
 pear-shaped pearl of perfect quality and colour pre- 
 sented to me by Mr " Solly " Joel. It must have cost 
 him at least five hundred pounds. The whole lot was 
 worth one hundred thousand francs. I asked the 
 bank to let me have ten thousand francs and I would 
 pay twelve thousand to get them back. Pawn- 
 
 217 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 broking in France being a monopoly of the State — ^the 
 Mont de Piete — it was impossible to " lend " ; they 
 had to " buy " the lot from me for ten thousand francs 
 and agree to sell it back for twelve thousand. But 
 there was no written contract to this effect. I hadn't 
 the money for some time and, going to America in the 
 meantime, I returned to discover to my horror that 
 they had sold everything. I do not know who got Mr 
 Joel's pearl, but I am inclined to think that it decorates 
 the scarf of a certain champagne magnate ; some of 
 the other things were acquired by jockeys and trainers. 
 Very few of the lot was I able to get hold of, for 
 financial reverses do not come singly. It was a terrible 
 loss to me, and one which can never be replaced. 
 
 Just another reference to Rose de Mai. There was 
 a certain owner who was always nosing round who 
 sidled up to me on the day of that race just before 
 the horses went to the post, and asked : " Has she any 
 chance ? " 
 
 Now I wanted to get one back at him and the only 
 way was through his pocket, so I replied, " She'll walk 
 in," and was tickled to death at the idea that he 
 might go and lose ten thousand francs. He put his 
 money on in a very clever way and scarcely reduced 
 the price at all. He must have won a tremendous 
 packet. Of course I was glad for Charron's sake that 
 she won but all the same I kicked myself for putting 
 that owner on. He never suspected the truth and 
 even said " Thank you " — but that was all ! He 
 knew I smoked cigars but I suppose he forgot it when 
 he banked his money. 
 
 This reminds me of an absolutely true story about 
 a friend of mine who used to race in America but now 
 lives in Europe. He was in the habit of giving a man, 
 quite an amateur, tips from time to time, and the 
 
 218 
 
Uyyiiiiiiiiii 
 
 Rose de Mai 
 
MR MEAN 
 
 fellow, who was in business and travelled about selling 
 his goods, made thousands of dollars in consequence. 
 Now in private life he would never dip down into his 
 pocket for anything. He would smoke his friend's 
 cigars, let him pay for theatre tickets, would bring a 
 girl or two with him and would let the giver of the tips 
 pay for the meals ; in fact every way he would accept 
 everything and give nothing. He even liked his street- 
 car fares to be paid for him. To sum him up, he was 
 the meanest fellow possible in spite of the fact that he 
 had a good and regular commercial income and was 
 under obligation for thousands of dollars won through 
 my friend's tips. It was that unwillingness even to 
 pay his street-car fare that goaded my friend to frenzy, 
 and at last he determined to get even with him. 
 
 He went to " Mr Mean " one day and said : " How 
 much would you bet if I gave you a real good thing, 
 a big outsider who might start at perhaps 50 or 100 
 to 1 ? " 
 
 The reply was three hundred dollars. 
 
 " Tliat's no good," said my friend : " you'll have to 
 put much more than that on ; mind you, I don't want 
 any of it." 
 
 " Mr Mean " thought for a moment and answered 
 that he would put on five hundred and perhaps more. 
 So it was agreed that they were to go racing next after- 
 noon. Quite early my friend went to a certain big 
 bookmaker and asked him to run down the card and 
 pick out something without a ghost of a chance. 
 Looking down the list the bookmaker said : " I'll bet 
 you five dollars that this one will be absolutely last. 
 Is that good enough for you ? W^iat's more she'll be 
 at 100 or 200 to 1." My friend bet him the five dollars, 
 being quite content at the knowledge that he was sure 
 to lose. Then he gave the name of the horse to the 
 
 219 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 mean man who showed hundred-dollar bills to the extent 
 of fifteen hundred dollars in all. He had plucked up 
 courage and was going to put the lot on. He took 
 advice however and ultimately split it up into smaller 
 bills so that he should not alarm the bookmakers and 
 reduce the price from 100 to 1 at which the horse 
 opened when the betting began. 
 
 Chuckling to himself the giver of the tip went up on 
 the stand to see the fun. The start was rather ragged 
 and something happened to the favourite. That out- 
 sider won by half-a-length, and the pile " Mr Mean " 
 won I believe made him give up racing ! My friend 
 netted the five dollars the bookmaker laid him. He 
 tried to ring it in that " Mr Mean " should hand over 
 a thousand dollars to "give to the jockey," but — not a 
 cent. Of course I needn't tell you where the thousand 
 dollars would have gone, or the best part of it. 
 
 Tommy Grifiin, who owned and trained in America, 
 may remember that incident although he had nothing to 
 do with the tip. I fancy he trained the horse though, 
 and that he was the most surprised man on the course 
 that day. Mention of Griffin, who retired from the 
 saddle to train and own horses, and for w^iom I always 
 rode when he w^anted me to, reminds me of the way in 
 which he was thoroughly soured against owners great 
 and smalL He was running a favourite little horse of 
 his in a selling race and hated to part with him, but 
 they ran him up after he had won and he had to let his 
 treasure go. Ever after that it didn't matter who it 
 was, Avhether it was Mr August Belmont or Mr W. C. 
 Wliitney or anyone, if he fancied a horse he would stick 
 at it till he had bought him. Even with me, one of his 
 greatest friends, he was just the same. He gave me 
 fair warning of what he intended to do, and would 
 stick at no friendship nor respect anyone's feelings in 
 
 220 
 
NO FRIENDSHIP IN RACING 
 
 the matter of buying out of selling races. I had a 
 horse named Rubicon for whom I paid seventeen 
 hundred dollars. He ran in " Pittsburg Phil's " name 
 and colours, and I won five straight races on him, 
 eventually putting him in a high-class selling race 
 worth five thousand dollars. I rode and won. Griffin 
 plugged away at the bidding and eventually had 
 Rubicon knocked down to him for four thousand five 
 hundred dollars. Of course I never dreamed he would 
 go on, nor could I realise that anyone would pay so 
 much for a plater. I don't think I ever came quite 
 so near crying over anything in my life, but I re- 
 membered then all that Griffin had said to me 
 previously. All he added now was : " I'm sorry. Tod ; 
 I'm your friend and I'm also a friend of Phil's, but I 
 always told you what I'd do." Nothing would shake 
 him. He wouldn't sell me the horse back. " Racing 
 is a business," he answered when I asked him. " I 
 had my bit of grief the day I lost that favourite horse 
 of mine. It's no good talking ; you mustn't keep up 
 a grudge against me, for I'd sooner be a friend than 
 otherwise, but I'd do exactly the same thing to- 
 morrow if you had something else in a race which I 
 wanted." 
 
 Of course the big fellows used to get a bit mad with 
 him at times, but Griffin was fearless and didn't pay 
 the slightest heed when it was whispered to him that 
 he had better be careful. He always relied on his 
 stock saying that business was business, and he refused 
 to be talked out of his new method. Many others 
 have had a similar experience. Of course in cases 
 where horses are bought or claimed it has often 
 been a matter of private grievances coming out, 
 but Griffin never bore the slightest animosity against 
 anybody : all names were the same to him. 
 
 221 
 
CHAPTER XXX 
 
 DOPE 
 
 Long Priced Rides — Never saw Fred Archer — At New Orleans 
 
 I FOUND during the following year that many visitors 
 to Paris were curious enough to ask me all sorts of 
 questions about certain incidents which had happened 
 during my racing career which had been cut off so 
 suddenly. I can remember especially being asked 
 what long shots had been steered home by me, and 
 some of the answers which were given may be useful 
 to add to those which have already appeared. In 
 England in my first season I brought off successfully 
 several 25 to 1 and 33 to 1 chances. 
 
 Among the longer shots in America that I can 
 remember was an animal belonging to the late Louis 
 Ezell. There were plenty of 100 to 1 bets taken about 
 him that afternoon at Chicago. Remember that it 
 was away back when it was thought I couldn't ride — 
 in fact I was just at my worst ! If memory serves it 
 was in 1893. Ezell said to me : " Do the best you 
 can. I don't think he's got a chance ; at all events 
 I'll leave the colt to you." For all I know he had 
 looked about for a boy who couldn't possibly win, for 
 as I said in a previous chapter that was the kind of 
 reputation I had at the time. I happened to get fairly 
 well away and certainly I was dead keen on winning. 
 I let the colt slip along, making every post a winning 
 one. During the race there was time to think it over. 
 I had received no instructions about " pulling him 
 
 222 
 
LONG PRICED RIDES 
 
 in behind," and if I had I would not have followed 
 them — I shouldn't even have listened. I think my 
 friends and those who have criticised me can say with 
 perfect certainty that nothing would ever satisfy me 
 but to win. I looked round in that race in Chicago 
 and could see nothing near me. Still I shook my 
 mount up, and I won pulling up. My brother Cash 
 rode in the same race and told me afterwards that he 
 was never so surprised in his life. It was like his 
 cheek ! By the way, although he was always known 
 as " Cash," his proper name was Cassius Braynand 
 Sloan, the second name being after my Uncle Braynand. 
 
 After the race just alluded to Ezell was not pleased 
 — no, not at all ! He said : " WTiat did you go and 
 win for ? I wanted to bet on this one when I thought 
 he had a chance. You ought to have known that it 
 was the first time I had him out." 
 
 I didn't figure it up but I came to the conclusion 
 that it was a question of his wanting me to " qualify " 
 him. However, surely he knew I was too inexperi- 
 enced for that. It wasn't worth while answering for 
 I was so tickled to death at winning a race. Ezell 
 thought me a fool and left it at that. 
 
 There were several long priced winners in England, 
 Sea Fog for instance, whom I rode for Sir R. Waldie 
 Griffith. If I remember rightly this horse started at 
 33 to 1. It was before the American invasion and 
 before anyone had started betting blindly on anything. 
 I had the good or bad luck to ride. Sea Fog brought 
 me in a nice little bit of spending money for I had a 
 standing bet of ten pounds each way on each of my 
 mounts. 
 
 Another question I may as well answer here is as to 
 what horse I have personally found the most con- 
 sistent. In answering I should certainly include 
 
 223 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 Belmar already referred to, while the best two-year-old 
 I ever rode was a colt named Jean Beraud owned by 
 Dave Gideon, the uncle of Melville Gideon, so well 
 known as the composer and singer of rag-time. I do 
 not know whether the latter remembers the young 
 horse in question, for Melville is some years my junior. 
 Among the many musicians I have met in my life I 
 put him down as one of the greatest in his own line. 
 I was once a bit of a tenor myself ; in fact I had always 
 a keen appreciation and a certain amount of knowledge 
 of music of all kinds. Melville Gideon was quite a 
 wonder as a boy, and afterwards studied music in 
 Germany ; he is versatile to a degree and has only to 
 stick to it to be able to do anything. Anyhow, he has 
 amused a great public in all parts of the world while 
 his melodies seem destined to last as long as "The 
 Swanee River." 
 
 Another topic I have been frequently interviewed 
 about — by French journalists in particular — is the 
 question of " dope." It would be silly to say that the 
 meaning of the term was not known to me, but I can 
 say frankly, without any fear of being hauled up, that 
 I never handled dope of any kind nor lent myself to 
 its use. One of the first questions put to me in this 
 connection was always as to whether drugs were liable 
 to injure a horse permanently, and my intelligent reply 
 could only be that a real stimulant would perhaps help 
 an animal who was a little faint-hearted or had a weak- 
 ness in temperament, much as a man could be " assisted " 
 by whisky or brandy properly applied. I do not 
 know, having been out of racing for so long, whether the 
 old-fashioned English stimulants of port wine or old 
 ale, which I have read have been given to horses for 
 generations, are still permitted, but I have been told 
 by many old-time racing men in England that they were 
 
 224 
 
LoKi) Carnarvon and Tod Sloan at Longchamps 
 
 A taiiiature I'V Sciii 
 
NEVER SAW FRED ARCHER 
 
 very effective on occasions. I have never, to my 
 knowledge, seen or ridden a horse having this kind 
 of homely dope, but it is quite possible to maintain 
 that no permanent harm could be done by swallowing 
 either. I have also read and heard about whisky 
 being used, but I should keep an open. mind about its 
 possibility. 
 
 Dope is given to horses to stop them. This I am 
 almost certain of. Surely a poisonous drug might injure 
 a horse's racing career for all time. Good gracious me ! 
 think of the effect on an athlete : his stomach and 
 nervous system might be ruined for ever from the 
 effect of swallowing the kind of poison which beyond 
 question has been given to race-horses. We Americans 
 were all supposed to be absolute experts in dope, but 
 don't believe half you hear on the subject ; three- 
 quarters of it is absurd. Modern training methods 
 and riding in new styles made so much difference that 
 critics could not understand altered form and attri- 
 buted it to little bits of " You know what, mixed as 
 we know how." 
 
 One of the greatest regrets of my life was that I 
 never saw Fred Archer ride. I have stood several 
 times by his graveside in the cemetery at Newmarket 
 and tried to picture him from his photograph doing 
 those wonderful records which I had read so much of. 
 Americans in my early days were always discussing 
 the merits of Archer compared with those of boys like 
 McLoughlin and Garrison. I was continually told that 
 Archeif had ridden two thousand seven hundred and 
 forty-eight winners during his career of nineteen years. 
 There is sufficient in this to make him the greatest 
 living jockey of all time. Doesn't it seem a terrible 
 thing for any man to be cut off from trying to equal 
 that record ? Perhaps it might not have been possible, 
 p 225 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 but, with the average I earned in several years that 
 of about thirty-three per cent, of winners in some 
 seasons, and thirty-eight per cent, in Cahfornia, I feel 
 that if I had lasted out physically the past fifteen 
 years might have brought up the number of winning 
 mounts to nearly the figures obtained by the immortal 
 horseman who had a jockey's career less long than 
 mine would have been. 
 
 I made many attempts during the year which 
 followed to find out what chance I had of getting my 
 licence again, but despite having good friends I had no 
 encouragement at all ; in fact the prospect became 
 more and more dismal. I went over to America in 
 the spring of 1904 and should have returned beyond 
 question in the fall of the year had there been any 
 bright outlook. I had many powerful friends in New 
 York who tried to do everything possible for me, but 
 it all proved hopeless. In the East they would not 
 give me a licence on the score that they might offend 
 the English Jockey Club, with which reasoning I have 
 no kind of quarrel. Ed. Corrigan, who was opening 
 a new race-track at New Orleans, wired to me to go 
 out to see him at Los Angeles. He offered to give 
 me ten thousand dollars for the season if I would ride 
 on his course. Naturally I was to be the star turn or 
 advertisement for the new track. Over three thousand 
 pounds for a season was not to be sneezed at. I 
 consulted my friends to see what they thought about 
 it all. I had been keeping myself pretty fit riding at 
 exercise, and I may say that I never had any difficulty 
 in getting round into condition after a slack time. 
 I had natural confidence and I never put on flesh, 
 so it was easier for me than for others. There were 
 many friends to leave in New York, and a certain 
 amount of hesitancy was inevitable. Neither did I 
 
 226 
 
AT NEW ORLEANS 
 
 quite like the idea of riding on a track which, although 
 not exactly " outlawed," was liable to be barred. 
 Such were the conditions of affairs in New Orleans ; 
 and I did not think for a moment they would allow 
 me to get in the saddle at the rival track whose dates 
 were about the same as where I was to figure. It 
 turned out just as I had anticipated, and I had no heart 
 at all in the work which was before me. 
 
 It proved a terrible place : the horses were up to 
 their bellies in mud and their temperament changed 
 just as my own had done. I felt exiled and I never 
 took any interest in the work at all. I played bridge 
 at night and was so disgruntled that I lost heart in the 
 whole business. I won five races out of fourteen 
 mounts, but that was no good to anyone and I gave 
 it up. 
 
 237 
 
CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 MY MARRIAGE 
 
 My Monologue — My Engagement — What a "Buck" is 
 
 I WAS rather disgusted after that New Orleans trip, 
 and I settled down in New York again, buying a new 
 car and going racing with varying luck. My court- 
 ship of JNIiss Julia Sanderson had lasted a long time, 
 and eventually I was married to my " first and only 
 wife " on 21st August 1907. I had taken a flat in 
 45th Street and furnished it. The real happiness 
 which followed was the best solace possible for dis- 
 appointments, and all those pleasant days, months 
 and years helped me to think that after all there was 
 a great deal left in life. My wife remained on the stage 
 after we were married, while I had started a big billiard- 
 room containing eighteen tables with John McGraw, 
 the great baseball player and, at the time of writing, 
 manager of the " Giants " team. This business oc- 
 cupied a great deal of time, as I was sometimes up 
 looking after the show for half the night. Still it was 
 a good place and the profits were steady. 
 
 Soon after my billiard enterprise an offer came to 
 me to appear on the vaudeville stage in a monologue 
 entertainment. The inducement was great : fifteen 
 hundred dollars a week. Certain facts were related to 
 the dramatic author and manager, Geo. M. Cohan, and 
 he put together something which I learnt by heart. 
 There was no question of stage fright in advance, but 
 as the time for my first appearance came round I had 
 
 228 
 
MY MONOLOGUE 
 
 necessarily a certain amount of nervousness as to 
 whether I should make good or not. The first en- 
 gagement was at Hammerstein's. The question of 
 what I should wear was debated and at last it was 
 decided that evening clothes would be the most 
 suitable. It went all right and business was excellent, 
 I used to get a good number of laughs^ — more I suppose 
 on account of Cohan's witty lines ; at all events the 
 credit must be left to him. It is a pity that I cannot 
 now remember the whole of the monologue. Stories 
 about England were told, not altogether to boost the 
 country I had ridden in. Little yarns about some of 
 the antiquated customs of the old country nearly always 
 go down to a mixed audience at a vaudeville show in 
 America. There was one story about the English 
 national game of cricket. I had to describe how a 
 man went to the wicket with his bat when he was a 
 boy, and stayed there until his whiskers began to grow, 
 and on and on year after year until he became grey 
 and was succeeded by his son. It was a gibe against 
 the slowness of the game as compared with the thrilling 
 quickness of baseball. I shall always think that with 
 a few more demonstrations of baseball the taste for it 
 in England would have been started. Everything is 
 crowded into about three hours, and some day even 
 Englishmen will refuse to be entertained by a struggle 
 which is not decided for three days — and then some- 
 times not finished. 
 
 Another story I told concerned my advice to the 
 great James Rowe about a horse race. I was supposed 
 to say to him : " You had better have a bet on my 
 mount to-day," and he refused, telling me that I had 
 told him to back the same animal a few days before 
 and he had lost five hundred dollars. Then I brought 
 down the house by telling how I ultimately convinced 
 
 229 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 him with the argument : " / am putting five hundred 
 dollars on him to-day ! " An audience always likes 
 stories told against oneself. 
 
 Then I rung in another story about America's great 
 jockey Snapper Garrison. I recounted how I had met 
 him on the race-track and said : " Wiy don't you go 
 on the stage the same as I am and earn fifteen hundred 
 dollars a week? You have only to go before an 
 audience and tell them what you did when you were 
 riding." 
 
 He was supposed to reply : " Tell them what I did ? 
 Wliy, I wouldn't do that for ten thousand a week ! " 
 It doesn't perhaps look so funny in cold print but I 
 got across with it — again thanks to Mr Geo. Cohan. 
 By the way, Mr Cohan is one of the best friends 
 possible to those he likes or who are in need of a helping 
 hand. The little charities he has done are numberless. 
 One day he walked into a saloon kept by a man he 
 had known in happier circumstances. He had heard 
 that this particular saloon-keeper had not been going 
 very strong and had been struggling to overcome 
 misfortune. He also knew for certain that the place 
 was absolutely the man's own property. Calling for a 
 couple of drinks, he threw down a thousand -dollar 
 note and told the barman to " ring it up in the machine " 
 (the check till). It was a graceful way of doing some- 
 thing without making a fuss about his bounty. 
 
 My wife went from one show to another in musical 
 comedy and paid two visits to London — much to my 
 regret — however, that need not be alluded to. There 
 was one incident, however, which I shall never forget, 
 that being when I raced across the Atlantic to see her, 
 cabling beforehand for her not to sail until after my 
 arrival. Somehow the cable miscarried : whose fault 
 it was doesn't matter, but when I arrived she had sailed 
 
 230 
 
Miss Ti'IIA Sanoerson 
 
MY ENGAGEMENT 
 
 twelve hours before ! We must have passed each 
 other somewhere off the coast of Ireland. It is no 
 use reviving that memory, but there are times in one's 
 life when we can be in a state of what I would call the 
 hopelessness of despair. Talk about anything which 
 had occurred before in my life, the trouble about the 
 licence, losing thousands of pounds, in fact anything 
 which can be remembered : they were as nothing com- 
 pared with my feelings when I reached England and 
 found that she had gone. Still, the personal note in 
 connection with the girl who was gracious enough to 
 take my name can be dismissed. 
 
 The following, which was published at the time, may 
 be interesting (it was just before our marriage) : — 
 
 "JOCKEY HAS BEEN DEVOTED 
 
 (( 
 
 There's a pretty definite rumour in circulation that 
 names Julia Sanderson of the ' Fantana ' forces as 
 the prospective bride of J. Todhunter Sloan, the noted 
 jockey. And although Miss Sanderson has taken 
 occasion, in the way of mild rebuke, to receive the 
 story in the spirit of jest, the report, to use the well- 
 known phrase appropriate at such times, will not 
 down. 
 
 "Until Sloan was summoned to New Orleans to re- 
 sume his seat in the saddle at Ed. Corrigan's City Park 
 race-track, he and Miss Sanderson had been observed 
 frequently in each other's company, and the diminutive 
 jockey played the gallant so devotedly that the report 
 of an engagement was the principal topic in the 
 ' Fantana ' company. 
 
 " Just before Sloan started for the South, he and Miss 
 Sanderson occupied a box at a Sunday night concert 
 in a New York theatre. During the intermission 
 
 231 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 several mutual friends took occasion to congratulate 
 them on the reported engagement. Sloan tried to 
 blush and said nothing. Miss Sanderson smiled feebly 
 and remarked that it wasn't wise to believe all reports. 
 "Miss Sanderson's rise on the musical stage has 
 been meteoric. She was an unknown chorus girl in 
 Winsome Winnie when Paula Edwardes, the star, was 
 suddenly called away by the death of her brother. 
 Without previous rehearsal Miss Sanderson sang the 
 title role and made a hit. She was subsequently 
 assigned to a role of importance in A Chinese Honey- 
 moon, and after Madge Lessing retired from Wang 
 received the part of Mataya." 
 
 From Hammerstein's my engagement extended to 
 Brooklyn and elsewhere, but the strain of two shows a 
 day became too great ; it was all right looking forward 
 to the evening only, but I didn't feel equal to the 
 afternoon too, and perhaps rather foolishly made no 
 more bookings. It must be remembered that natur- 
 ally the big billiard hall could not be looked after 
 quite so well, and there was enough in this to give us a 
 good living. That particular trip to America, where 
 I only intended to go for a few months in 1904, ex- 
 tended up to 1908. It can be put down here that 
 despite my having no licence to ride, and my repeated 
 failures to get one, old friends stuck to me and that 
 I made new ones. Year succeeds year very quickly 
 when we get over a certain age and those happy three 
 years after my marriage seemed to fly. Of course 
 there were little ups and downs of fortune which are 
 inseparable from the experiences of those who go 
 racing, but somehow when there is racing money seems 
 to circulate more freely and there were always a certain 
 number of " bucks " in my pocket. For those who are 
 
 232 
 
WHAT A BUCK IS 
 
 ignorant as to what a " buck " is, it might be explained 
 that this is slang for a dollar, and here is a story about 
 an old-time prize-fighter who used to be a frequenter 
 of my billiard-room. 
 
 This man would sit watching a game for hours, inter- 
 fering with no one. Occasionally somebody would 
 slip him something to help him along. I heard a fine 
 little bit of comedy one afternoon when an old gentle- 
 man was shaking hands and bidding him good-bye. 
 The old pugilist said : 
 
 " I beg your pardon, but could you lend me a buck 
 before you go ? I want to buy some food." 
 
 " Certainly," was the ready response, as he took 
 out his pocket-book," but tell me how much a ' buck ' 
 is, I have never heard of it." Without the slightest 
 hesitation the old fighter said with a smile of innocent 
 childhood: "Two dollars." 
 
 Another time he met an old friend down in the 
 billiard -room and they talked for over an hour. 
 Suddenly the occasional visitor got up to go. 
 
 " You're not going to leave me like that," said the 
 ex-boxer, " without even a car fare ? " 
 
 " Oh, I'll give you that all right," said the 
 " financier," as he opened his wallet. " I'll give you 
 a car fare. Where do you want to go ? " 
 
 " To Kansas City ! " said the bright boy. They 
 both laughed ; and at all events enough was forth- 
 coming for a half-way journey for where the pug. 
 didnH want to go. 
 
 He was an excellent story-teller himself, and I can 
 remember that one day he came in mopping his fore- 
 head, saying that he had never been for such a long 
 walk for weeks. It appears that a young fellow who 
 had squandered one or two fortunes had been put on a 
 close allowance by his family. He was put to live in 
 
 233 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 a big hotel down town where he could have every- 
 thing in that house : meals, cigars, drinks, in fact all 
 he wanted within reason ; but not a penny of ready 
 money was given him. The fighter met him and 
 wanted a good drink and cigar. " Come to my place," 
 said the young fellow, but neither had the money for 
 the car fare and they had to tramp it over two miles 
 with the thermometer nearly 100° in the shade. 
 
 " Never again," said the old man ; " although I must 
 say I did have four glasses of whisky and smoked four 
 cigars and he gave me these two to bring away with 
 me." 
 
 Certainly it was an extraordinary way for a family 
 to try and keep a boy in order. 
 
 I am reminded by this of just another yam con- 
 cerning an owner in America. He had two sons who 
 hated the idea of work. The father had tried them 
 several times, but they were such absolute slackers 
 that he gave it up as a bad job. He let them stay at 
 home, where they had everything they wanted, and 
 their allowance for pocket money was five dollars a 
 day. If the father did not see them in the morning 
 the sum was left with the greatest punctuality in an 
 envelope on the hall table and in no circumstances did 
 he increase the allowance nor let them anticipate it. 
 He paid for their clothes too up to a certain sum every 
 year and when they went away for the summer vaca- 
 tion the money was doled out in precisely the same 
 fashion. 
 
 234 
 
CHAPTER XXXII 
 
 HOPE DEFERRED 
 
 Ruined through Winning — Acquiring Abelard II. — "The Knock" 
 
 Throughout this book I am afraid that I may have 
 said too much of my perpetual hopes and fears about 
 getting a hcence. At all events at the beginning of 
 1909 I was led to believe there was yet another chance, 
 but — the usual result. 
 
 I went back to France therefore, and then on to 
 Ostend. Here one day I was introduced to Lord 
 Torrington : we seemed to have a lot of interests in 
 common straight away. The friendship struck up 
 there lasted for a long time. We saw out the re- 
 mainder of the season at Ostend, having determined 
 to go on to Brussels immediately afterwards. Lord 
 Torrington proved a splendid sportsman and was on 
 for any enterprise which the means at our disposal 
 could exploit. We learned to know each other better 
 and better, and we had no hesitation about embarking 
 on a little deal together at the opening of the Autumn 
 season. I saw an animal walking round the paddock 
 which I mistook for a colt, but which proved to my 
 surprise to be a filly. Getting closer to her, her good 
 looks impressed me very much ; in fact she looked all 
 over a winner, and of much better class than the others. 
 I told " T " what I thought of her and we had a nice 
 bet about her on the off chance, and we arranged that 
 if she did win we would try to buy her. 
 
 Everything turned out successfully : she won, 
 
 235 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 and we secured her for three thousand francs. 
 That was the start of the stable. The filly was 
 Campenoise, who afterwards won many races. We 
 put her in charge of Adament Douliere, who trained at 
 Mons for the President of the Jockey Club, M. Coppee. 
 He was one of the nicest men I ever met in Belgium 
 and would take any amount of trouble with horses. 
 Campenoise never ran in a Selling Plate after that. 
 The first time we ran her, in Lord Torrington's colours 
 of course, she won, and we had already made a nice 
 profit on our investment. All we touched seemed to 
 turn into money for a time, until the end of the season 
 came. Lord Torrington went off for a trip to the 
 West Indies and I decided to spend a week in Paris. 
 It was at the time of the floods. Paris was lighter and 
 ga^'-er than at any time during the first war winter of 
 1914-1915. There was plenty of excitement too when 
 the water was reported to be rising so many inches a 
 day. But at the hotels and restaurants no one was upset. 
 It was just something to look at and wonder about. 
 
 In the spring of the year Mr George Edwardes sent 
 over for me to ride a trial for him at Ogbourne and I 
 went. It was my first meeting with his trainer, Pat 
 Hartigan. 
 
 After several rides Mr Edwardes asked : " Well, 
 how's the stable getting on in Belgium ; do you want 
 one or two ? " 
 
 There was an old horse I had seen who had first been 
 leading the two-year-olds, been switched on afterwards 
 to some older horses and even then had not finished. 
 Then my eye caught a black but I was told I couldn't 
 have him. Then I suggested I would like the old 
 horse, who proved to be Abelard II. 
 
 " Oh, choose anything else but him," said Pat 
 Hartigan. " Don't take him ; he's too useful." 
 
 236 
 
RUINED THROUGH WINNING 
 
 Mr Edwardes laughed : " Oh, you want them ail, 
 Pat ! You take him, Tod ; you can have him with 
 pleasure." He practically gave him to me. 
 
 I had heard that the old 'un had let Mr Edwardes 
 down once or twice, and perhaps for this reason he 
 wasn't so sorry to see the back of him, so that he should 
 not lose any more money. At all events I was very 
 proud of our new property and he was duly sent over 
 to Belgium. 
 
 It must be mentioned that at this time I had been 
 promised a trainer's licence in Belgium and there was 
 every reason to think it would be handed to me in a 
 few days. At last it seemed that my luck was chang- 
 ing and that I was to start off with a real good chance 
 of making good. Several of my friends congratulated 
 me in advance on my good fortune and some of them 
 went as far as to say that they would support me. I 
 had made my plans and was counting the hours to the 
 time when it should be announced to those I respected 
 in England and America that at last I had a " ticket " 
 to do something at my legitimate game. 
 
 But destiny again interfered. There arrived 
 another minor tragedy of a life in which there had 
 been so many ups and downs. Abelard II. was put 
 in a hurdle race. I had no idea that he could stay 
 and this race was lost entirely through carelessness. 
 Abelard wouldn't go with Jimmy Hare waiting behind 
 on him and the race was lost. A few days later he was 
 engaged in the Grand Steeplechase and in this from 
 flag fall Abelard raced away on his own, Jimmy Hare 
 being quite unable to stop him. At one time he was 
 quite two hundred and fifty yards in front and at no 
 part of the race less than two hundred yards to the 
 good. He won in a trot, and no one was more surprised 
 than myself. 
 
 237 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 After the race Baron Grenier said to Mr Harry Van 
 der Poole, " Sloan wants his licence, doesn't he ? " 
 and took it out of his pocket. There it was in black 
 and white and Harry Van der Poole reached out for it, 
 but the Baron proceeded to tear it up into small pieces, 
 saying as he did so : " Oh yes ; Sloan can have it ; 
 here it is." 
 
 I can hardly speak of the incident, and every time 
 I thought of it for a year or two afterwards a lump 
 would come into my throat at the thought of what I 
 had missed. Nothing would satisfy them but that 
 there had been something queer about the first race. 
 However I can solemnly state that no one has ever 
 been more innocent than myself or anyone connected 
 with the horse. Simply we didn't know him the first 
 time and Abelard insisted on us knowing him when he 
 ran in that Steeplechase. He won all sorts of races 
 on the flat and over jumps, and the last event he ran in 
 in Belgium he actually carried 11-4 and won. 
 
 That last race was just a little while before the 
 Cambridgeshire. It will be remembered that in that 
 race he had the light weight of 6-9. He was sent over 
 to Newmarket to a stable where the trainer owning the 
 establishment did his very best, giving him one of the 
 finest boxes in the place ; but Abelard was a horse of 
 peculiar temperament and character. He loved soli- 
 tude and at home I would always have him in the 
 quietest part of the yard. As it happened, at New- 
 market, although his quarters were so good, there was 
 a noise outside his box with the lads coming and going, 
 rattling buckets and so on. Nothing was better 
 calculated to upset this sensitive horse. When I 
 arrived in Newmarket on the day of the race two or 
 three of us went out to see him, and I was rather 
 shocked at his appearance, for he had lost nearly fifty 
 
 238 
 
ACQUIRING ABELARD II. 
 
 pounds in weight. His chance didn't look so rosy. Lord 
 Torrington had backed him to win a very large sum at 
 long prices and there was still a chance considering 
 how light a weight he had to carry. Mr Edwardes 
 never had the slightest idea of his winning ; in fact he 
 ridiculed me — but he hadn't seen the way Abelard 
 had won his races in Belgium. Admitted that the 
 class there is below that of England and France, still 
 when a horse gives stones away on the flat to quite 
 useful horses it must be taken some notice of. He 
 never showed at all in the Cambridgeshire. I think 
 his rider thought that the horse was going to run away 
 with him or something. However one mustn't blame 
 him. It was a disappointment nevertheless. If 
 Abelard could have appeared on Newmarket Heath 
 that Wednesday in the same fettle as he was in on 
 many days in Belgium he would have made a different 
 showing ; but for all that Christmas Daisy would have 
 wanted beating by anything in training. 
 
 George Parfrement had ridden in the Steeplechase 
 in Belgium when Abelard had won and was determined 
 in the Prix des Drags at Auteuil not to let our horse 
 get so far away from him. I thought he was sure to 
 fall if George kept to this tack of lying on his heels. 
 At the stone wall Abelard pecked and his rider 
 was shot out of the saddle but the horse did not 
 fall. 
 
 After the Cambridgeshire it will be remembered 
 that Abelard won on the flat and his performances 
 after over hurdles in England can be remembered. 
 
 After the incident of the tearing up of the licence all 
 hope seemed at an end about obtaining anything. It 
 seemed to me almost persecution, for a full explana- 
 tion could have been given, but of course I had no 
 
 239 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 status in regard to the horse, and was not given a 
 chance. I was not the only sufferer, however. 
 
 About this time there was an Enghshman in 
 Belgium, a young trainer, well educated, a good fellow 
 and a veterinary surgeon by profession although he 
 did not practise. For some reason or other he could 
 not obtain a licence in France and came to Belgium 
 to try his luck there. But he met with all sorts of 
 rebuffs and the endeavour seemed hopeless. \Miat 
 was it ? There was a whisper that he understood too 
 much about " dope " — a disgraceful allegation. The 
 bar was up in France and it seemed that he would find 
 it up perpetually in Belgium too. Time went on with 
 apparently no relaxing on the part of the Stewards. 
 At last, through very strong inside influence, that of a 
 big shareholder I think at one of the race-tracks, the 
 Englishman obtained permission. The trouble then 
 was to obtain a horse or two. Eventually he got hold 
 of one — a very bad actor and not an enviable animal 
 to make a start with. He took any amount of trouble, 
 however, with this " one and only " and won the first 
 five races the horse ran in ! Then followed more 
 persecution : after each of these five races there was 
 an objection lodged and all of them overruled. Can 
 you beat it ? In some cases it was a charge of " dope " 
 and in others something trivial. However, he had 
 shown what he could do, and a few more horses came 
 to him ; while in the following season he had more 
 offered to him than he could train, having a grand 
 string and winning any amount of races. 
 
 That man is George Newton, who now is private 
 trainer in France for Mr Stern. He has the confidence 
 of his owner and all those he comes in touch with. 
 Good luck to him for the pluck he had in fighting on 
 and on and — beating 'em. 
 
 240 
 
At thi: Carlton Hotel, Nice 
 
 I9'3 
 
THE lOTOCK 
 
 An Englishman or an American soon gets used to life 
 abroad, but when so many things can occur in private 
 " talks " among the ruling body, and all sorts of things 
 are listened to which there is no chance of denying, I 
 ask you, what can be done ? 
 
 After that Abelard incident as fast as I wanted to 
 explain and felt convinced I could, all the time a lot of 
 backbiters, who would abuse the friendship of anyone, 
 gave me " the knock." Some of them had not seen 
 either race ! Jimmy Hare, now training in England, 
 will say what he knows and how unjustifiable it all 
 was. 
 
 21-1 
 
CHAPTER XXXIII 
 
 THE THEODORE MYERS STABLE 
 
 Kaufmann's Methods— Mr Myers' Success— In April 191 5 
 
 Surely there never was a more preposterous system 
 established than that of the Societe d' Encouragement 
 in France, when they engaged Professor Kaufmann. 
 The Austrian Jockey Club had been the first to start 
 the business of examining the saliva of race-horses after 
 a race in the search for traces of drugs which might 
 have been administered to a horse. Kaufmann came 
 to Paris with his theories and his assistants, and was 
 engaged straight away and went about his work. 
 There was no great inquiry as to whether his system 
 was infallible ; he was just launched on his policeman 
 work. Just fancy an Austrian squad, able to make full 
 inquiries about everything going on in France, gomg to 
 all the race meetings, including some adjonnng impor- 
 tant fortified places. This is no charge that he or any 
 of his assistants were spying. But what a change 
 between then and now. What a hoist an Austrian 
 would get at the time of writing (early in 1915) if he 
 tried to nose into everything in France, both on and 
 off a race-course! Things have certainly altered. 
 They would have kissed him then ; they might lynch 
 
 him now. 
 
 It will be scarcely believable to those who do not 
 know that after the appointment of Professor Kauf- 
 mann all the examinations were at first m secret. 
 Eventually, after many complaints, the trainer was 
 
 242 
 
KAUFMANN'S METHODS 
 
 allowed to be present. But to start off there might 
 as well have been no owner and no trainer, for all 
 connected with a horse were kept outside. What an 
 outrage ! Many a good horse too has been ruined 
 while standing there sweating after a race without a 
 rub-down or being rugged up until the wonderful 
 professor or his crew arrived from the weighing 
 enclosure or buffet. TOien the swabbing out was 
 done the horse was turned over to his lad. 
 
 Small wonder that some trainers went almost crazy 
 with rage at the treatment their horses received, and 
 at the time mentioned, when such as Denman, the 
 Carters, the Cunningtons, in fact all trainers, had to 
 cool their heels while their horses cooled and got 
 chilled — well, it was unspeakable. 
 
 Was Kaufmann right in what he was supposed to 
 find out ? Wlio can say ! He had to do something 
 to justify himself and the blame is not so much his as 
 those who countenanced such proceedings. And what 
 ridiculous happenings there were too ! 
 
 Take the case of Bonbon Rose. The pari-mutuel 
 paid out over the race — over Bonbon Rose of course — 
 but when the result of the " test " was known the 
 horse was disqualified and the stake given to the 
 second. M. de Monbel very rightly brought an action 
 to recover the stake. Now in all countries bets follow 
 stakes, so the backers of the second should have been 
 able to " touch." It seems too absurd that there 
 should have been heavy winners over an animal which 
 never got the race. 
 
 Again, why weren't the second and third also ex- 
 amined by the Specialist ? The manner employed 
 was to pick any horse out promiscuously and make a 
 test : no trainer knew when his would be up for it. 
 
 To administer drugs to a horse is " doping." For 
 
 243 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 the sake of argument, however, let it be considered 
 whether leaving a certain number of kola nuts about 
 on the grass for a horse to pick up if he liked is " ad- 
 ministering dope " or not. Some horses would pick 
 them up readily enough while others would not touch 
 them. If a horse gets what he likes, therefore, and 
 that which stimulates or sustains him — is that doping 
 him ? Athletes nibble a piece of kola nut and are 
 encouraged to extra exertion. What is good for a 
 man cannot be harmful to a horse. Mind, I am only 
 putting a case for argument. Some horses like dande- 
 lions and others don't. I am not sure but that dande- 
 lions might give a result on analysis which might 
 suggest that something beyond " real grub " had been 
 given to a horse. I hope those who read this will chew 
 it all over. 
 
 My first venture in having any connection in horses 
 with Mr Theodore Myers, Ex-Controller of New York, 
 was one day at Auteuil. It was a horse I wanted to 
 buy and found I had only about three thousand francs, 
 the price being about six thousand francs. I asked 
 Mr Myers if he had any money on him to make up the 
 sum. He told me that he would put up the other half 
 and go in partnership over him, but that the horse 
 must run in his name and colours. That was all right, 
 in fact just as it should be. It was the beginning of a 
 very pleasant association, and from first to last a good 
 number of horses passed through our hands. At one 
 time we had nearly thirty horses in the stable near 
 Brussels and Ross Adams was the resident trainer. 
 Mr Myers became very fond of the horses, indeed of 
 the whole business, and was tireless in asking questions 
 about each of them. What could they do ? Wliere 
 and when were they likely to run ? What sort of 
 
 244 
 
MR MYERS' SUCCESS 
 
 chance did they possess ? Of course there were the 
 many disappointments inseparable from a racing 
 stable. Of those now remaining Mr Myers' property 
 are two mares, Chester and Jonquille. With more 
 careful training the latter, a grey, might have turned 
 out anything : she was a perfect beauty as a two-year- 
 old when we bought her. 
 
 Tliere was one race which she won at Maisons 
 Laflfitte over which I am afraid both Mr Myers and 
 myself made some bad friends. The going was not 
 exactly in her favour and she was so badly drawn — in 
 fact in a position on the other side of the course, from 
 which very few if any win. How could either of us 
 therefore give one point of encouragement to inquiring 
 friends ! 
 
 It seemed any odds against. I fancy someone put 
 on a hundred francs for me, but I would not waste a 
 shilling of my own over her — in the circumstances. 
 Mr Myers had a few hundred francs on her. She was 
 his animal and he was a rich man so he had a right to 
 indulge in a hobby. She won at a big price, Johnny 
 Reiff just getting the filly home. Then started the 
 " rat-tats." " Why hadn't we told them ? " I never 
 heard the end of it that afternoon, nor the next day 
 either ; it was always coming at me from one and 
 another. It was no use telling the truth for I was dis- 
 believed, and in fact charged with misleading inquirers, 
 these including many old friends, some of whom gave 
 me the cold shoulder ever afterwards, and some of 
 whom I cut out for being so surly about it. This may 
 not be so interesting to English readers, but the case is 
 of the kind that many others have experienced on a 
 race-course. It would have been madness to encourage 
 them to back the mare : in fact I was on a hiding to 
 nothing whatever happened. 
 
 245 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 It is a most difficult thing too to give an owner the 
 right idea when to bet and when not to, especially 
 when that man has not been racing all his life. Half a 
 suggestion by a trainer to an experienced owner is 
 enough sometimes ; the latter will take the responsi- 
 bility on himself and kick afterwards. So many 
 owners and trainers have fallen out over this, some 
 being too hopeful while others hate to have any hand 
 in making a suggestion. If the owner is a betting 
 man there is frequently a better time afterwards when 
 advising a failure than when a man of non-speculation 
 has an occasional small flutter and it goes down. 
 
 I am afraid Mr Myers thought I was over-confident 
 sometimes and he would say so on occasions — after a 
 race — but always cheerfully. Archie Maclntyre, now 
 in Roumania, rode a good deal for us ; also others ; 
 and there was frequently a race thrown away through 
 not following orders. I don't believe in hampering 
 a boy with too many instructions, but in the case of 
 horses of peculiar temperaments — well, I studied this 
 more than many did. 
 
 Taking them all round, they were a cheap lot of 
 horses Mr Myers had, but they could win all the same. 
 By degrees, however, Mr Myers got tired of racing and 
 weeded out the stable, selling some and giving away 
 others until finally he gave it all up, only keeping the 
 two mentioned for breeding purposes. 
 
 When all those pleasant days in Brussels are re- 
 membered it is a terrible thing to think of all the 
 places we went to and spent such a happy time in 
 being swept away and gone for a long time, so far as 
 racing is concerned. In its way Belgium was a para- 
 dise for a small owner : he could have a chance with 
 moderate-priced horses and back them at fair odds too, 
 thus helping him to make it pay ; whether racing will 
 
 246 
 
IN APRIL 1915 
 
 be revived again is one of those puzzles we in the spring 
 of 1915 cannot solve. 
 
 A few lucky owners managed to get away with a 
 few of their horses to England, and to win races too. 
 The Belgian-bred stock were improving every year 
 there is no doubt, and racing was going the right way 
 quite. Of course expensive sires could not be pur- 
 chased, but good results can be obtained without 
 extravagance. It is not necessary to specify horses, 
 but one of the first things all true lovers of 
 racing will wish for is that racing be restored. This 
 sounds empty as it is written but — who knows ! It 
 will be curious in future years to read what was written 
 in April 1915 ! 
 
 247 
 
CHAPTER XXXIV 
 
 SOME MINOR SUCCESSES 
 
 A Doctor's Advice — Rehearsing an Operation — Great Night at Ostend — 
 
 What Hanlon did for me 
 
 One of those charming friends who had helped in 
 every possible way in Brussels in all I tried to do and 
 who looked after my health was Dr Bouhlle. He was 
 one of the best friends I had in that country. He 
 would give me such excellent advice in regard to my 
 health and some excellent " man of the world " 
 pointers as to what I should do. He was medical 
 officer to the Jockey Club there and had naturally a 
 certain amount of influence. I cannot thank him 
 enough for his dozens of acts of friendship. I have 
 always made friends with medical men. 
 
 At the Cecil in London in 1899 I was suffering, as I 
 thought, from nervous breakdown, and I was sure of 
 the insomnia, for sleep was next to impossible. The 
 Prince of Wales was told of it, and suggested to Lord 
 William Beresford to send me to Sir Francis Laking ; 
 the latter was told that I was coming to consult him. 
 He thoroughly examined me and certainly I had 
 fallen away, not weighing an ounce more than 6-7. 
 Sir Francis was most amiable to me, asked me a lot of 
 questions about myself, and was quite a delightful 
 man to talk to. His verdict was that I was in bad 
 case and must rest up for at least two months. I 
 ought to go away, he said, and be looked after by a 
 trained nurse. He told me also that he would leave 
 the choice of a sanatorium to me. I listened very 
 
 248 
 
C C 
 
 a: 
 < 
 
 
 o 
 
 as 
 
 "2^ 
 
A DOCTOR'S ADVICE 
 
 attentively to him, but eventually stiiick in with : 
 " I have to ride in the Derby next week. I must ; I 
 have the chance of a good mount." 
 
 Sir Francis expostulated with me on the madness 
 of it, and told me that he would not be responsible 
 for anything which might happen. He was very 
 emphatic. 
 
 Of course I rode in the Derby. It shows what one 
 can do in a fanciful mood. I know that when I have 
 been broke I have had no hallucinations — is that the 
 right word ? — about being ill, but on a big earning 
 capacity and with a full bank I often found myself 
 nervous about my heart, my lungs, my — well, especi- 
 ally the former. It was very delightful of the Prince 
 of Wales to mention to Lord William that there was 
 just the odd interest taken by him in my health. It 
 was just on a par with all he did for those he took any 
 passing or permanent interest in. I must add too that 
 Lord William used to say to me : " Little man, you 
 must look after yourself " — and this wasn't because 
 he wanted me to do nothing but ride for him ; it was 
 something altogether above that — a great good man's 
 interest. Would to God he had lived ! And I will 
 go further — I cannot think but that had he lived some 
 greater consideration — if only in a spirit of clemency — 
 would have been extended to me. God ! it is a 
 terrible thing to be barred for life. What can be the 
 reason of it all ? Surely someone must realise the 
 fierce difficulties of living without a licence to follow 
 one's calling. 
 
 Going back to doctors and surgeons I must here put 
 down my heartfelt thanks to all of them, for I do not 
 suppose that the fees I have had to pay have amounted 
 to more than one hundred pounds in my life — and I 
 was a bit of an " inquirer " on the " ailment stakes." 
 
 249 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 Dr Bull and Dr Jannaway of New York were very- 
 kind when I thought that I had an affection of the 
 heart, but they both at different times gave me a 
 clean bill of health. 
 
 Dr A. C. Bernays of St Louis was perhaps one of the 
 greatest personalities among surgeons whom I ever 
 met. I was privileged to become a great friend of his 
 and had the opportunity of studying one of the clever- 
 est surgeons in America. It is far more interesting to 
 state some facts about the man than to remember any 
 small or great thing which he ever did for me. A. C. 
 Bernays, I believe, performed the most marvellous 
 feats in surgery that the scientific world has ever 
 known. He had the wonderful case in his charge of 
 the woman who had been shot three times through the 
 brain by her husband — who was condemned and 
 executed, by the way. 
 
 The woman lasted four days by the most wonderful 
 feat of surgical jugglery — forgive the word — and Dr 
 Bernays actually had her talking for a few minutes on 
 the third day ; but of course she was doomed and in 
 the ordinary course of life should have died on the 
 same night as she was shot, but — A. C. Bernays ruled 
 otherwise. In connection with this case the surgeon's 
 claim against the estate of the deceased man and 
 woman was disputed. It was a question of fifty 
 thousand dollars. The administrators were against 
 it but eventually " Doc " Bernays made good his 
 right. He had sat up with the wife watching her un- 
 ceasingly for four days and nights, and this was taken 
 into consideration. He had ruined his health, but 
 had achieved a triumph for surgery. The whole 
 details of what he had done were given in the scientific 
 journals. 
 
 When a great Congress of medical men was held — I 
 
 250 
 
REHEARSING AN OPERATION 
 
 think in Berlin — Dr Bernays performed a most 
 wonderful operation on the spot which was reported 
 everywhere and staggered those present by its skill 
 and originality. It may seem strange that I could 
 take so much interest in it all, but I knew the man 
 and what he could do. 
 
 I had an extra knowledge of him from my repeated 
 conversations with him : he would find a ready and 
 willing listener in me at all times. He would some- 
 times say : " Tod, I have an operation to do to- 
 morrow morning which I have never had before, with 
 all my experience. I will tell you what it is, and what 
 I am going to do." Then he would rehearse it and I 
 would sit silent and wondering at the — what shall I 
 call it ? — the genius of the man. It was flattering to 
 me to have his confidence and I more than half under- 
 stood what he was talking about. 
 
 WTiat a loss to everything and everybody he was 
 when he died ! He was quite a young man, not much 
 over fiftv. Given the chances and the education, I 
 have often thought that I should have liked to be a 
 doctor. Fancy "Dr Sloan" on the brass plate out- 
 side ! I couldn't have stood the " old ladies' 
 physician " stunt, but real practical surgery, lunacy 
 cases or something exciting I feel I should have made 
 a mark at. But what's the use of thinking — I was only 
 a jockey and now am ex- jockey, a would-be trainer, a 
 would-be at many things ! As a child I learned an 
 old saying about " making your bed and lying on it " 
 — but in all honesty others tucked in those hard sheets 
 I had to make acquaintance with. I'm not wailing 
 nor snivelling ; but that I should have to go through 
 life without that chance I have prayed and longed 
 for seems too terrible. 
 
 251 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 In a previous chapter I have mentioned Sir Tatwell 
 Thomas of Liverpool, who kindlj^ attended me at the 
 request of Lord Derby, then Lord Stanley. His lord- 
 ship kindly gave me a carriage to take me to the 
 Adelphi Hotel, Liverpool. It was after the accident 
 when riding Maluma. My ear was nearly off, and I 
 was in great pain. I was put in a cot in my bedroom 
 and the great surgeon came to me. He refused to 
 perform the operation without chloroform ; in fact he 
 said he couldn't with success or justice to himself. 
 He had a medical man Avith him to administer it, but 
 when I had the first whiff I showed fight and 
 threatened all sorts of things if it were gone on with. 
 I was such a fresh kid ! I was in agony, however. 
 
 Sir Tatwell then began putting in the stitches one 
 after the other until I counted ten. " Can I speak to 
 you ? " I asked. " If you want to make me happy, 
 you'll leave off at that and not put a single one more 
 in." 
 
 " Perhaps that's enough," he answered. " At all 
 events we'll make it do." 
 
 Looking back I can remember all the details exactly, 
 and my suffering. I think if he had gone on another 
 minute my heart would have given out. As it was, 
 when I got up off the cot, my knees collapsed and a 
 friend who was with me and the surgeon had to lift 
 me up — I was down and out. 
 
 I hope these little personal incidents will not annoy 
 a public, who perhaps wants to hear some more excit- 
 ing details of other people, but this is after all " Tod 
 Sloan," and must be told if only as an appreciation of 
 what others have done for me. In very truth the 
 greatest possible kindnesses have been received from 
 the greatest in their profession. 
 
 252 
 
GREAT NIGHT AT OSTEND 
 
 I have been wandering from Belgium but several 
 other Belgian incidents must be mentioned. A few 
 seasons back I arrived in Ostend without a sou. 
 Something had to be done and with a horse or two I 
 managed to rake a few thousand francs together to 
 make things go easier. There was racing and a little 
 bit of baccarat and chemin de fer, but the bulk of a 
 " young " bank roll came in from the course. It grew 
 and grew until one night I went into the Casino with, 
 I suppose, about fifteen thousand francs. A few odd 
 bets and it swelled up to nearly twenty thousand. 
 Mr Gaston Dreyfus, the French owner, was in the 
 bank and I called him " banco " for eighteen thousand 
 francs. He looked at me for a few seconds and then 
 " passed " the bank. It was handed round the table 
 until I took it at the eighteen thousand and had a pass 
 of three ! My winnings that night were about one 
 hundred thousand francs. A night or two after I 
 called a thirty-two-thousand -franc " banco " when 
 M. Brodsky was in the bank, and he passed it. I took 
 it and had a pass of three. That was another great 
 evening ! I lived on the best and did what I could 
 for those less fortunate. It shows you what luck is, 
 for in that time I accumulated a packet and then in 
 the last three nights I lost one hundred and fifty 
 thousand francs. All the same after paying up every- 
 thing I had a nice wad of ninety thousand francs to 
 take back to Paris for the autumn racing. 
 
 The first thing to do was to get a flat, and I took a 
 furnished appartement at 1 Rue de Messine at one 
 thousand francs, or forty pounds, a month, paying 
 three months in advance. It was just as well that I 
 did. I bought a brand-new Gobron car for eighteen 
 thousand francs. There was the chauffeur to pay 
 and two servants and — other details. I entertained 
 
 253 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 and loved it all, but could I keep the money ? Not a 
 bit of it. I was broke in three weeks and had to 
 " look around." 
 
 When the racing was over in Paris I wanted to go 
 to St Moritz, Switzerland calling us that winter. The 
 car was sold and small debts paid up. After all what 
 did it matter ! there was always the chance. So 
 tickets were taken for St Moritz for a friend, a valet 
 and my dog — the west of Scotland white terrier which 
 will be seen in various pictures. I had only about 
 fifty pounds in my pocket, but the idea of a holiday 
 was everything. 
 
 We lived the outdoor life and played bridge in the 
 evening. Things ran well for me and I won on that 
 trip about eight hundred pounds — at bridge only. 
 It shows you that, despite a drop of over ninety 
 thousand francs to about one thousand francs, one 
 should never despair. There's nothing like getting 
 used to the ups and downs. Those who gamble can 
 always hope. 
 
 Of all the games of cards I have played in my life 
 there has never been a game that appealed to me so 
 much as bridge. We used to play the old game in 
 London and elsewhere — but the comparatively new 
 Auction Bridge : surely there was never anything like 
 it ! Its fascination beats that of all the other games 
 of chance and skill which have ever been devised. 
 American billiards always fascinated, and then came 
 my learning of the English game, at which my Editor 
 tells me I play pretty well. At all events I can 
 beat him readily enough — or so he says ! " Solo " 
 had its fascinations, poker its late hours and un- 
 satisfactory endings, with sometimes no one satisfied ; 
 but give me the thrills of bridge with a satisfactory 
 partner ! Carrying a " dud," however, and having 
 
 234 
 
WHAT HANLON DID FOR ME 
 
 to lift him out of trouble time after time isn't 
 funny. 
 
 In writing all this I am afraid I have wandered a 
 good deal from the story of my life, but the various 
 topics have to be taken up as thought of or suggested, 
 and the distraction of cards and dominoes can help us 
 to keep our sanity on occasions. I do not intend to 
 suggest that there has ever been a suspicion of any- 
 thing in the way of " Pots " or " Bug-house " in our 
 family, but anyone who has a big nervous strain is 
 liable to want something to take the attention off more 
 serious topics. 
 
 I have met many great players at bridge, have 
 watched their peculiarities and have studied how they 
 played the game. A man can so easily start off with 
 the best possible ideas about prudence and then be 
 spurred to risk. On the other hand, there are 
 " pikers " at the game who have no audacity and will 
 see opponents win a game where a little courage would 
 get them out of a hole. There are books and theories 
 but there is nothing like practice and encouragement. 
 
 Speaking of the latter — encouragement — perhaps I 
 should have never gone on with race riding many years 
 ago but for the comforting words of Charles Hanlon. 
 It is almost entirely due to him that I persevered with 
 the forward seat. It was he who dissuaded me from 
 going on the stage and made me stick to riding. He 
 encouraged others too, and America has a lot to thank 
 him for in the way he could discriminate between 
 what would be for the benefit of the Turf and what 
 would not. He combined intelligence with a manner 
 and a way of speaking which anyone had to listen to. 
 His picture will give some idea of the kind of man he 
 was. 
 
 255 
 
CHAPTER XXXV 
 
 MY DOG PIPER 
 
 "Has anyone seen Piper?" — Piper and the German — All I was fit for 
 
 I CANNOT think how I have resisted so long the tempta- 
 tion to talk about my dog Piper. More than one 
 photograph of him appears in the book. Some dogs 
 are merely dogs, but Piper was Piper— an individual, 
 an inseparable companion, my pal ! Mind you, some- 
 tim.es it happens that dogs can be " general " — that 
 is, have too many friends, and in this Piper somewhat 
 erred. I never knew exactly when to expect him 
 back when he disappeared, and on occasions he never 
 gave me the slightest indication when he was going. 
 When he broke away on his own " jag " he would 
 come around after and begin his hunt for me : why, I 
 wonder, did he start all round the bar-rooms of Paris 
 on the off-chance of finding me ? He knew my haunts, 
 I suppose. And he would go mad when at last he ran 
 me to earth. Still, he was such a casual fellow that I 
 would never make too much fuss of him when he 
 found me, pretending to be rather offended when he 
 picked me up — offended at his being so offhanded 
 during the previous day or two. He " twigged " it 
 all right and would try and ingratiate himself by every 
 dog sign of affection and " playing up." 
 
 With all his sagacity and devotion Piper was a 
 " dam-fool " dog if it comes to that, for he was crazy 
 on automobiling, and would take the chance of being 
 kidnapped for an odd ride. That is how the grievous 
 
 256 
 
Shootinc; Ci.av I'kikons at St. Mokitz 
 
HAS ANYONE SEEN PIPER ? 
 
 end came. One day I was going to the American 
 Express office and saw Piper fooling about with some 
 of his own countrymen, Highland officers, standing 
 alongside their cars by the Grand Hotel. I didn't 
 take any notice, thinking he would follow me. He 
 wasn't there when I came back, so I thought he had 
 gone home, or at all events that he was somewhere on 
 his " rounds." Tliere was no necessity to bother about 
 him, for he had frequently disappeared for a couple of 
 days at a time. On this occasion, however, I waited 
 and waited without any news of him. All the police 
 stations were notified and every effort was made to 
 find him, but without success, and a friend of three 
 and a half years was lost to me. I can only suppose 
 that he jumped in one of the cars which was going off 
 and the Highlanders must have thought that they had 
 a mascot which could not be turned out without risk 
 to their luck. 
 
 If this should happen to be seen in print by any of 
 them, and Piper is in the land of the living, I am 
 quite sure that he would be restored to me in 
 Paris, for it is almost a certainty that he is in 
 France. 
 
 The history of the dog is that he may have been 
 stolen in England long before I got hold of him. The 
 tale of the man who first made the sale was that he 
 had won the gold medal in Cardiff, beating sixteen other 
 West Highland terriers. Eventually he found his way 
 to France. Whether he swam or hid himself on a 
 boat is not known ; at all events Captain Langford of 
 the Travellers' Club gave him to Lucien Lyne, who 
 asked me to look after him for a few days. The 
 following week Lyne asked me : " How's the dog 
 behaving ? " 
 
 I made a face and answered : 
 R 257 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 " I've seen some ill-behaved dogs in my time, but 
 this one is the limit." 
 
 "Then you keep the dam dog," answered Lucien 
 —and I did. Of course I had been kidding Lucien, 
 who, however, never rapped me about it afterwards. 
 
 Piper was perhaps the best-known dog on the 
 Continent, being able to find his way all over Nice, 
 Monte Carlo, St Moritz, Paris, Brussels and Ostend. 
 I am certain that he knew one place from another, 
 and he knew very well where I stayed in each place. 
 He was a wonderful traveller too. When we boarded 
 a train he would go under the seat straight away, 
 either in a compartment or a sleeping-car, and would 
 never be seen until we arrived at our destination, 
 when he would stretch himself and trot out on the 
 platform and wait for me. 
 
 Talking about " stretching," I could make him yawn 
 whenever I wanted to. I needed only to gape and 
 pretend to yawn to make him open his mouth, all 
 the time making a most fearsome noise ; it was funny.* 
 
 Piper never cared much for women ; they could 
 scarcely ever induce him to go to them ; and he would 
 never make friends with young children ; at some time 
 or other some child must have earned his contempt. 
 Many of my friends, however, were just as fond of him 
 as I was, and I was asked for him by many. I wish 
 now that I had given him to Henry Tepe (" Henry ") 
 in the Rue Volney, for he was so fond of that dog and 
 so was Piper of him. 
 
 I was approached once by a certain Count in Belgium 
 as to how much I would demand for Piper's stud fee, 
 the Crown Princess Stephanie having some prize 
 bitches. I said they were welcome to Piper for a 
 time, and I was promised half one litter. But it 
 
 1 You should see and hear Tod's imitation of it. — Editor. 
 
 258 
 
WriH Mv Dog. I'ii'KR. at St. Mokii/. 
 
PIPER AND THE GERMAN 
 
 proved to be like many other promises I have had : I 
 never saw one pup even, although I heard there were 
 six grand youngsters in the first lot. 
 
 I never had a licence for him nor did he ever wear 
 a collar. He would go in and out of my apartment 
 just like a man and I am sure would often try to talk. 
 He endeavoured to say something quite civilly to a 
 big German once at St Moritz, and the hulking pig 
 kicked him. Piper looked to me to take up the 
 quarrel, and I did. The German was three times my 
 size, and it must have looked funny when I faced that 
 " Boche." 
 
 " What did you want to kick my dog for ? " I asked 
 him. 
 
 He smiled at first, then he must have seen my 
 dangerous " bantam " look, for he turned green and 
 — apologised. I think Piper was disappointed that 
 there was no scrap ; he might have been useful round 
 the German's calves. 
 
 It may seem odd to some people that I have given 
 so much space to just a dog, but apart from liking all 
 dogs, Piper was out by himself in intelligence; we 
 understood each other just like two men talking. I 
 miss him still and have never had the heart to get 
 another. There are some living creatures in the world 
 who cannot be replaced, and Piper was one — of tw^o. 
 
 • ••••••, 
 
 In the first chapter of this book I mentioned my first 
 dog — Tony. One of the lasting memories of my life 
 is when I assassinated a dog to save Tony's life. Yet 
 I was almost as fond of the dog I murdered as I was of 
 Tony. It was a question of the oldest friend having 
 to be protected. It was when I was working at the 
 oil wells. I used to have to take a can every morning 
 to Pat Grace's cottage for milk. Pat also worked at 
 
 259 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 the wells. He had a big bull-dog known as "Pat 
 Grace's bull-dog." This dog and I would play to- 
 gether, rollick in the grass, pretend to bite each other 
 and spar like two kids. 
 
 One morning I had forgotten that Tony had come 
 with me to Pat Grace's for the milk and before I knew 
 anything the bull had grabbed him by the neck through 
 the fence, and was shaking the stuffing out of my dog. 
 Then the two bounded through the fence on to the 
 railway track and Grace's bull had a new hold on Tony. 
 My dog weighed about 26 lb. while his attacker was 
 heavier than I was— about 56 lb. There was my 
 lovely dog being chewed to death in front of my eyes ! 
 What was to be done ! If the bull had turned on me 
 he would have done for me. I had a big clasp-knife 
 in my pocket and it was the work of a minute to whip 
 it out and give the first stab at that hulking brute— I 
 felt that way about him then although he was my 
 pal in peace-times. In a second another deep jab 
 followed up to the hilt of the knife, and then— it 
 closed on me and cut my fingers open to the bone. 
 Tony was gasping and whimpering. Myself I let that 
 bull have a one -two, a half -blade stab and one which 
 put him out. Tony had got away and was Hcking his 
 
 wounds. 
 
 I don't know how I got away myself, but I did, 
 delivered the milk, had a look at Tony, and— went 
 back to work. The first thing I did was to go up to 
 Pat Grace, who was sitting around after his breakfast. 
 
 " Pat, I've killed your dog," I began. " He tried 
 to kill mine and I stabbed him to death." 
 
 There was a pause and his face turned deathly white. 
 He half got up, then mastered himself, and replied : 
 " Then you better go and bury him, Tod." And he 
 turned away and never spoke to me again in his fife. 
 
 260 
 
ALL I WAS FIT FOR 
 
 I tramped back, crying over the bull which I was so 
 fond of. It was a bit of a task to drag that 56 or 
 58 lb. dog to a pit I had ready for him, but I did. 
 I cursed the fate of things that made it necessary for 
 dogs to chew up each other, for with Tony out of the 
 way I could have been just as fond of the other fellow. 
 However, the last look was given him and I felt happier 
 when he was out of sight. 
 
 Of course there was a lot of talk about it all in our 
 district. I was mentioned as " only being fit for a 
 School of Correction," and altogether put down as 
 hopeless. What a lot of chat can take place in a little 
 community ! I wasn't altogether pleased with myself, 
 all the same. 
 
 261 
 
CHAPTER XXXVI 
 
 A LITTLE FIGHTING 
 
 Dal Hawkins v. my Valet— Results tell— Silencing a Whistler 
 
 In mentioning fighters, I have referred to my friend- 
 ship with Jim Corbett ; I had also a cordial acquaint- 
 ance with Bob Fitzsimmons, Kid M'Coy and others at 
 various times. I shall always look on Corbett as the 
 greatest fighter of our time. He proved it over and 
 over again, especially when going twenty rounds with 
 Jim Jeffries, then a much younger man— in fact at 
 his prime, and seven years younger than Jim. Neither 
 of these men I have mentioned had much to do with 
 the race-course, paying only occasional visits. Corbett 
 from being a bank clerk became a pugilist, and made 
 his great name by beating John L. Sullivan in the 
 twenty-first round. He followed that up by beating 
 Charlie Mitchell very easily and himself being beaten 
 by Fitzsimmons at Carson City. Of course there were 
 many minor victories. 
 
 A sort of preliminary for that great fight at Carson 
 City was at the same place when Dal Hawkins, who 
 weighed about 136 lbs., had nearly killed Martin 
 Flaherty— a great fighter too. Somehow Hawkins 
 and I did not get on very welt. I forget what led to 
 it, but I answered him back one day by saying : " Why, 
 I've got a man who can beat you easily— my valet." 
 I was referring to " Mac," as he was known on the 
 race-course, his full name being MacGoolrich. He 
 was always saying that he could fight, so one day I 
 
 262 
 
DAL HAWKINS F. IVIY VALET 
 
 made a match for 200 dollars a side for my " dark 
 one" against "Dal." He hadn't put down his stake 
 so I roasted him one day in the Baldwin House at 
 San Francisco. 
 
 " I've put up ten 20-dollar gold pieces," I said. 
 " Where's your money ? Afraid of being whipped ? 
 Wliy should I leave my money down any longer ? " 
 He looked at me a bit ugly like, and then said : "Oh ! 
 I'll get it," and went out of the place to do so. He 
 came back with 100 dollars, all he could raise for the 
 moment, so we made the match for the reduced sum 
 down, on the understanding that it was to be increased 
 to 500 dollars later on. I had done the thing for a bit 
 of a joke at first, but MacGoolrich was always so sure 
 of what he could do, so I stuck to it. Of course it 
 had all started by my kidding Dal. It was to be one 
 of several bouts put on at the Opera House, San 
 Francisco. I remember that Pittsburg Phil and I had 
 the big stage box. 
 
 MacGoolrich had stage fright, I could see, but apart 
 from that he was no class at all. If Dal had gone 
 for him in the first round my man would have been 
 down and out in no time at all. But Hawkins sparred 
 cautiously, not being sure whether I had sprung a 
 real daisy on him. He was fogged about it all. When 
 they came up for the second turn there was no time 
 lost, and Mac was cut to ribbons. My ! but Hawkins 
 simply murdered him. Mac, in fact, was out for a 
 long time. Wliat a game they had with him when he 
 went racing again ! The boys would rattle a bucket 
 behind him, or run up quietly and then yell : " Look 
 out, Mac, here's Dal coming." 
 
 No one left him alone at all and his life was a misery. 
 But he had been such a swanker before with regard 
 to his fighting ! And to think in that first round Dal 
 
 263 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 thought he might be out against a ringer ! Hawkins 
 and I made it up in after years, but he had heard the 
 full story long before that. 
 
 I had a coloured valet, Dick Keys, of whom I have 
 spoken : he thought he could fight too, but he had no 
 heart — or " guts," if I may use rather a vulgar ex- 
 pression. Fred Taral, the jockey, was a rival just 
 then of mine, and was sore with me about several things, 
 chief of which being the fact that I had replaced him 
 in riding Hamburg. There was still more jealousy and 
 enmity between Dick Keys and Taral's coloured valet. 
 In fact it grew worse and worse as day followed day. 
 At all events a match was made between the two. 
 Willie Sims, the coloured rider, known both in France 
 and England, asked me about my valet, and I told 
 him that he had no real stamina and wouldn't stay. 
 " Never mind," said Willie, " we've got to win ; we'll 
 
 win." 
 
 The two were both heavy fellows and outwardly 
 they looked a good match. Sims said again, when 
 the match drew near : " We'll have to win." 
 
 It took place at the Coney Island Athletic Club. 
 Willie Sims was in Keys' corner ; the match was 
 four rounds. The two boxers looked like a pair of 
 chimpanzees when brought in ; I never saw such a 
 picture, they shaped and crouched just as if they ought 
 to have been up a tree, or in a Zoo. 
 
 Taral's nigger led off and let Keys have some 
 beauties, although neither of them knew anything 
 about fighting. Wallop, wallop — ^how my man got it ! 
 I thought he would have been " dead " in the first 
 round, but he scraped through somehow. Willie 
 Sims whispered encouragement to him and in he went 
 for the second. Wliat the other nig. had done to him 
 in the first was nothing to what he handed out in the 
 
 264 
 
RESULTS TELL 
 
 second ; he was sent all over the Ring, and how he got 
 up and faced more punishment was a licker ; he did 
 nothing in return. Back they went to their corners, 
 and here something happened to my man which made 
 him more like a monkey than ever. By mistake they 
 dashed some ammonia into his face out of a bottle 
 instead of water. He sprang up with a yell and danced 
 all over the Ring. No one knew what had happened, 
 and there was a roar of laughing. The wonderful 
 Willie Sims soothed him somehow and got him up 
 again, to be whipped about in much the same way as 
 before. Willie didn't look downcast about it all, so 
 I only looked on to enjoy the fun ; yet I never thought 
 for a moment that my man could last it out, and — even 
 suppose he did ! Sims must have mesmerised him or 
 something, for notwithstanding Keys being down twice 
 in the last round — once for the count of eight — he 
 flopped back more dead than alive. 
 
 ijp went the Referee's hand. " Keys wins I " 
 That was the announcement. AVhat yells and booing ! 
 You could have heard them miles away. Keys didn't 
 know where he was ; however, he got round — and then 
 the side he put on ! He bought a red necktie and a 
 new suit. He could afford to : the match had been for 
 200 dollars a side. When they all began from that 
 time to chip him and say : " Wliat a decision ! " or 
 " Why, Taral's nigger could murder you ! " Dick's 
 only answer, given with a wag of his head, was 
 " Results ! " — meaning, of course, " Results tell." 
 
 Just another story of a nigger. Wlien I was out in 
 San Francisco there was a nigger arrived there armed 
 with a letter from George Considine of New York to 
 me. It said merely that the nigger wanted a show, 
 and that, according to the nigger, he " could fight 
 till the cows came home." He was a biggish fellow, 
 
 265 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 weighing about 155 lbs. We arranged a try-out for 
 him against a local man and went to see the show. 
 Considine's nigger, as I shall call him, came into the 
 Ring full of confidence, showing his white teeth as his 
 smile broadened. He was as cheerful and confident 
 as possible, so I said to Joe Eppinger, who was 
 just behind him : " There may be something in this 
 feller." 
 
 " Anyhow, we'll see some fun," answered Joe. 
 
 They were to spar six rounds. When they began 
 the nig. was still laughing. Then it began to wear off 
 as the round proceeded, and he looked astonished at 
 the end of it, for the other fellow was handing out 
 jabs and hooks. He went in for the second and got 
 lifted off his feet and had it all roads. At the end of 
 it he looked like quitting, but Joe Eppinger kidded him, 
 saying : " Go in ; you're all right ; he's nearly had 
 enough of it ; that last knock down was only an 
 accident." So up he got again. 
 
 In the third he was driven round the Ring, and it 
 required all Joe's cleverness to get him in again. " The 
 fight's on points," Joe said. " You've outpointed him 
 already and you're sure to get the decision if you go 
 up to him." 
 
 At the end of the fourth, which was a repetition 
 of the others, Eppinger tried to use the same old 
 wheezes, adding : " You're sure of it now, ask Tod 
 Sloan ; he says you'll walk in." 
 
 " I don't seem to see it in the same way as you 
 fellers do," the nig. replied. However, he went in 
 again. After more slaughter, Joe started afresh : 
 " Tliat was a beauty : your man's beaten. Why, he 
 wants to quit now." 
 
 " Does he, boss ; does he really ? Well, send someone 
 to the other feller and tell him to let's call it a draw." 
 
 266 
 
SILENCING A WHISTLER 
 
 ii 
 
 Why, there's more dog in you than in any nigger 
 I ever saw," calls out Joe to him. " Why, in Mr 
 Considine's letter to Tod Sloan, he said you could fight 
 ' till the cows came home.' " 
 
 "That's right, but tell Mr Sloan that I see 'em 
 coming." 
 • ••••••• 
 
 There are a brave lot of people about. I was riding 
 home in a street car in San Francisco one night with a 
 fellow called Gus Gentry, who was always talking 
 fight. I was sitting next to an old fellow, who fidgeted 
 about when I was whistling — I have spoken of the 
 habit. 
 
 " Quit whistling," roared the old fellow. Gentry, 
 who was farthest away from him, nudged me and said : 
 " You go on whistling, Tod." 
 
 The old fellow leaned across my back, looked at 
 Gus, and said : " You whistle." 
 
 Gus made never a sound, and after a minute the old 
 fellow laughed and looked at us : "I don't hear either 
 of you two fellers whistling." He got off soon after, 
 and when we were travelling about 200 yards farther, 
 and the car running at about 25 miles an hour, Gus 
 broke in : " I'm burning up ; I've a good mind to 
 jump off the car and go back and kick the stuffing 
 out of that fellow. What right had he to stop us 
 whistling ? " 
 
 " I didn't hear you whistling, Gus," I answered. 
 
 " No, but I'm not a whistler like you. Tod. I 
 wasn't brought up to it like ; in fact, I can't whistle — 
 not what they call whistling." 
 
 • ••••«•• 
 
 Just another word about Jim Corbett. Always a 
 good fellow, he liked to sit down in a bar-room with 
 Frank Ives, the billiard player, and myself and talk 
 
 267 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 for hours. The three of us travelled about a good 
 deal together, in America, in the nineties. Frank Ives 
 had the billiard- room in New York before M'Graw and 
 I took it. He led an indoor life and the atmosphere 
 he lived in affected his health ; the poor fellow died of 
 consumption. Yet in his earlier times he had been a 
 good baseball player and an all-round good athlete. 
 Bob Fitzsimmons, although not such a good racon- 
 teur as Jim Corbett, who has made plenty of money 
 at it, had a lot of anecdotes and possesses a fine dry wit. 
 Both Jim and Bob were staunch friends to one, and 
 have been level-headed enough to provide for them- 
 selves and their wives — ^to whom they have proved 
 devoted husbands. 
 
 268 
 
CHAPTER XXXVII 
 
 MAKING A BOOK 
 
 Raided — Charron as a Pupil — Newmarket — In the Red Cross— One and 
 
 only " Henry " 
 
 One of the great mistakes I made was taking the 
 New York Bar in the Rue Daunou, Paris. My pre- 
 decessor, Milton Henry, lost a packet over it, and it 
 was waste of time for me. However, with the war 
 coming, all I had to do with it was finished. I had 
 previously run a big bar, of course, in connection with 
 my billiard-saloon in New York, and knew a good deal 
 about the business, but — ^there is always so much to 
 learn. 
 
 It has been said that I made a book in the Paris bar, 
 but I had nothing to do with anything of the kind. 
 Not that I have never made a book. I have — in New 
 York. I had rather a nice flat, and some of my friends 
 used to say to me : " Why don't you start booking at 
 your place ? There's every facility." So I started an 
 extra telephone and Charlie Hauser, a brother of the 
 great story-teller in Paris, was on the " piece-at-each- 
 ear " game. There used to be a pretty collection of 
 all nations up at my " apartment " : grafters, diamond 
 merchants, the knock-outs from the Balkan provinces, 
 and — others. We betted ready and settled after each 
 official result. They would have five, ten, fifteen, 
 twenty dollars on a horse, and sometimes fifty or a 
 hundred. There was no starting price, as understood 
 in England, but a list of prices would be put up and 
 they could take their choice. There was varying 
 
 269 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 success, of course, but it paid for a while. I can tell 
 you, though, that I used to look at the carpets and 
 chairs when they had all gone. The collection of cigar 
 stubs and remnants of bad words took some time 
 sweeping up. 
 
 One afternoon, just before the fourth race was due, 
 Charlie Ballard, the jockey, came in by chance. The 
 crowd were looking down the card and thinking over 
 what they would do. Charlie Hauser, who was at the 
 telephone as usual, taking the commissions of Germans, 
 Poles, Russians — and others, looked through the door, 
 saying ; "Is Charlie here ? somebody's asking for 
 him." But Charlie Ballard wasn't wanted ; he never 
 even went to the receiver. 
 
 " I'll have a bet on this race," said one. " A hundred 
 dollars on So-and-so " — and he mentioned the name 
 of the horse. 
 
 " Well then, put me on 20 dollars. Tod," added 
 another. It was a 4 J to 1 chance. Then there was 
 a short pause and a minute or two elapsed. " Champion 
 won," called out Hauser through the door. It was 
 what the two had backed. But I didn't tumble it 
 and in due course paid out. The evening passed and 
 even the next day came but I was no wiser. The 
 guy who had stuck me for the 450 dollars had a great 
 night, I heard, and said I was " easy." Then it began 
 — by the remarks of one or two — to leak out to me. 
 They had coded the runners in the race. One was 
 "Charlie," of course, another was Fred, say, yet another 
 George, while I suppose the others were represented 
 by Fritz, or Ivan, or Bill. At all events the strength 
 of the result was given by " Is ' Charlie ' here ? " 
 The code of " Charlie " had come off all right. I fell 
 across the fellow who had stuck me for the 450 
 dollars, and he laughed, saying : " You always were 
 
 270 
 
RAIDED 
 
 a mug and always will be — so, why not ? " It was 
 unanswerable. 
 
 The show went on, however, until one day " Big 
 Tim " (Senator) Sullivan gave me the glad word. 
 
 " You'd better be doing no business to-day, Tod. 
 Just be at home as a gentleman at ease." So there 
 was nothing doing and we smoked our cigars, just one 
 or two of us. They came as expected, those " cops," 
 had a look round and then asked me what I was doing 
 there. " What d'yer think ? " I replied. " This is 
 my ' at home ' day and I'm expecting the company." 
 However, they didn't bother, and off they went, but 
 bookmaking at that place was finished for good and 
 all. 
 
 I had a look round and found a suite of rooms at an 
 hotel up town, just near Fiftieth Street and Seventh 
 Avenue. I sent word round to the clientele, and up 
 they came the first afternoon. We hadn't been going 
 an hour before the cops came. They didn't come in 
 with any kid-glove way, but simply smashed the door 
 in and caught us all red-handed. They didn't grab 
 the money, though ; that was planted all right. The 
 inspector came over and of course took me as the 
 principal, with the telephone clerk and my others too ; 
 and they put down the names and addresses of all the 
 frequenters. 
 
 I began to parley with him. I told him the tale that 
 it would be a terrible thing for me. I had applied for 
 my licence, which I hoped to get, and it would be a 
 dreadful thing if I had to go off in the Patrol Wagon. 
 I didn't mind what it cost, the fine and all that, but 
 if it got into the papers and I was made the main guy 
 in it all my prospects would be ruined. He laughed 
 at first and then said, without any hint that I should 
 give him any of my pocket-book, " You'll come with 
 
 271 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 me alone then." I guessed he was all right and meant 
 me to slip him when we got outside. It turned out 
 pretty well as I thought. Once in Seventh Avenue 
 he turned to me, saying : " Beat it now " (Go off quick) 
 and don't let me hear of you again. And I never did. 
 Tliat was the end of the bookmaking business. 
 
 The only other time that I came across the 
 police in New York was when we were exceeding the 
 speed limit — so they said — in an automobile coming 
 into the city. There was a terror named Tracy in 
 those days, who used to get scores of record-breakers 
 into his net. He got us and rode on his bicycle all the 
 way by our side to the police station ; my two pals had 
 been taken too. We were run in and they fixed the 
 cash bail at 100 dollars for us all. We turned out our 
 pockets, and could only find about 35 dollars among 
 the three of us. We had another with us, but he had 
 not been charged. We asked him how he was fixed, 
 and he said he had 100 dollars on him, but it " didn't 
 belong to him." We knew that story, for he was a 
 real " hard heart," but we made him put up that 100 
 dollars. Of course he wanted to pouch the 35 we 
 had but I put that down where it wouldn't come up 
 very quickly. We had to see the evening through 
 after that. He kept on saying: "But why not give 
 me that 35 ? " I explained to him that his money 
 was all right. We should turn up in the morning and 
 his " 100 " would be released. Of course it went down 
 after a bit of a demur. 
 
 Next morning I was at the Court House before 9.30, 
 and asking for " Battery Dan," as we knew the Police 
 Court Judge, who was a great friend of Tim Sullivan. 
 I asked and asked until at last I was told that he had 
 arrived. The police officer said he'd take my name in. 
 I wouldn't have that and said I would knock at his 
 
 272 
 
V'V 
 
 In Algieus 
 /Q14 
 
CHARRON AS A PUPIL 
 
 door and walk in myself. Doing so I came into a 
 room before Tim Sullivan and " Battery Dan." 
 
 " In trouble again, Tod ? " began '' Big Tim." " We 
 can't help you this time, I'm afraid ; it's all up with 
 you." 
 
 " How much money have you. Tod ? " asked 
 " Battery Dan." " Are you going to the race-track 
 to-day ? " 
 
 I told him I had about 15 dollars and free entry 
 and he asked me how much it cost to pay the usual 
 entrance. \Vlien he learned from Tim that it was 
 3 dollars, " Dan " told me to give him the 3 dollars 
 and get out. That was the joke he played on me 
 and I never heard another word about it. America 
 can be, after all, a " free " country ! 
 
 Although I have mentioned a few little details about 
 betting, laying horses never had any real fascination 
 for me, and, strictly speaking, when I was not riding, 
 the big wagers made were more in emphasis of an 
 opinion than a gamble. The proof of this is provided 
 by the semi-refusal to support animals which I did not 
 believe to be at the top of their form — Rose de Mai, 
 for instance, already alluded to. By the way, when the 
 Comte de St Phalle left Charron as his trainer, he did 
 nothing to speak of, although he had, in one season 
 v/ith Charron, won 480,000 fr. in stakes. 
 
 Certainly Charron was one of the quickest pupils 
 possible to find ; he could understand straight away 
 what he had to do, in respect of adapting himself just 
 as well to the horse as he had done to the bicycle and 
 automobile. He has now a nice place out at Maisons 
 Laffitte and it is to be presumed that he will cling to 
 horses for the remainder of his life, although he has 
 such important business interests of other kinds. 
 The picture in the book shows him taking his first 
 s 273 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 instruction in race-riding. How pleased I was with 
 him! 
 
 While Charron and many other trainers have done 
 well at Maisons Laffitte in turning out winners, that 
 centre is far from ideal for training purposes, the horses 
 there having to journey to Acheres, to get tried out. 
 The course at " Maisons " is admirable, especially that 
 straight mile and a quarter with excellent turf all the 
 way. It beats Chantilly in this respect, although 
 perhaps there is no finer training place in the world 
 than the French headquarters. The great point 
 about choosing a suitable place to train horses is to 
 have the gallops as near as possible to the stables. 
 Some of the Wiltshire and other Southern English 
 stables are much too far removed from where the work 
 has to take place. Take Darling's establishment at 
 Beckliampton, or Robinson's at Foxhill, or Ogbourne, 
 where Mr George Edwardes has his horses. I should 
 consider that in some cases a horse had done quite 
 enough exercise when he arrived at the place where he 
 was expected to " work " — in other words, he might be 
 overdone with that extra bit. This is very like hacking 
 a long way to a meet — so little is left to work on in a 
 horse. Chantilly is splendid in this respect, and lucky 
 is the man who has a good horse to train there. When 
 Mr Theodore Myers took the place in Brussels, a picture 
 of the stable yard appearing in this book, we had only 
 three quarters of a mile to go to begin work — ^the 
 greatest of all considerations. 
 
 Of course there is only one great race-course in the 
 world, that being Newmarket ; nothing ever laid out 
 or adapted from nature ever approached it. Every 
 distance, plenty of room, splendid going in all seasons : 
 what can equal it ? Some of the spectators and visitors 
 from abroad complain of the accommodation, but racing 
 
 274 
 

 ^ S- 
 
 < ; 
 
 Z 
 
 
NEWMARKET 
 
 isn't a circus ; it should first suit the horses and all 
 other things come afterwards. WTiat does it matter 
 when horses have to be tried out whether the finer 
 points of the race cannot be seen until the horses are 
 nearing home ? There has been a real test of merit. 
 It astonished me when I first saw it, that wonderful 
 Heath, and I never slackened in enthusiasm. I wish 
 to goodness I was riding there this afternoon — ^the 
 Second Spring Meeting is in full swing. We have no 
 turf tracks in America. At Sheepshead Bay there is 
 a grass inner track on which perhaps one race a day 
 is run, but it is — nothing. 
 
 Newmarket is extraordinary, and if a jockey will 
 keep his line, trying to get on the right strip where the 
 brush harrow has been, there can be confidence that, 
 if at the right time the proper effort is made, a boy 
 can do his horse justice. Compare it with any other 
 course in England, why — the idea is absurd. Epsom 
 is a joke but a fine sight-seeing track. It has often 
 been a wonder to me that so many good horses have 
 won the Derby, but I suppose it is that a good horse 
 can race under any conditions. The test of stamina at 
 Epsom too comes in on account of that uphill bit 
 at the beginning of the Epsom mile and a half : many 
 a horse has lost the race there. I have said how I 
 threw the Oaks away on Sibola. That downhill well- 
 worn-out grass at Epsom can be a real danger in 
 summer : it is more providential luck than anything 
 else that a jockey is not killed every meeting. Despite 
 the turns at Sandown Park it is not so easy, that rise 
 at the finish finding out far more horses than, for 
 instance, Kempton, which ends on the dead flat with a 
 breather at the turn. Hurst Park is severe on young 
 horses, and so is Newmarket, when they finish at the 
 Stands. But England is the place for racing, while 
 
 275 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 there is nowhere better in the world for training than 
 Chantilly. 
 
 • •«••••• 
 
 It was never to be imagined in the years before 
 1914 that I should be living in Paris when the Germans 
 were only twenty-five miles, or less, from it ; that 
 previously the mobilisation in France for the greatest 
 war in the world should take place, and that I was to 
 be in uniform driving a Red Cross waggon. The 
 trouble, it will be remembered, was anticipated many 
 days before, the chief indication being the scarcity of 
 small money. It was most difficult to get change for 
 even a fifty-franc note, everyone hoarding up gold 
 and silver coinage ; as for foreign money, except for 
 English sovereigns, there were all sorts of impositions 
 in giving change. There was a curious calmness 
 about it all, however, which spoke a lot for the courage 
 of the French people. I wish as much could be said 
 for some of the foreigners left in Paris. I remember 
 one day in particular. Several people rushed to my 
 room early in the morning. I had just gone to bed. 
 " Get up and be off," they cried ; to which I replied, 
 " Wliy should I when I have only just come to bed ? " 
 But they couldn't be stopped, and raced off, trying to 
 get seats to skip away out of the country. This 
 was about three weeks after the opening of the 
 war. 
 
 Straight away I had tried to get something to do, 
 first, as a sharpshooter. But there were two reasons 
 against my acceptance, one being that I was so small 
 that I couldn't stretch out to march with ordinary 
 soldiers, and the other that I was an American subject. 
 Then there was the fruitless endeavour to get a job in 
 connection with a mitrailleuse, for I had been tried 
 out with this, and I was sure that I could make good 
 
 276 
 
- * 
 
 W'okkim; i-i)K iiii'; Amiu/lance 
 
 IQI4-IQIJ 
 
IN THE RED CROSS 
 
 work with it — certainly I should have been a smaller 
 target than many others. 
 
 There was nothing for it then but to get into the 
 French Red Cross and French Ambulance, but even 
 here all there was to do was to drive officers about, 
 chiefly those of the French Red Cross. It was dis- 
 couraging. All applications to do something more 
 interesting or to be sent to the front were usually met 
 by the objection that I had been warned off the turf 
 in England, which to begin with was not true, and in 
 the second place what my troubles had been with the 
 English Jockey Club surely could have no possible 
 bearing on my having useful work when so many were 
 wanted. However, it was a repetition in a way of 
 what had happened when I tried to get into the 
 Automobile Club, and when I was asked to resign 
 my membership of the Touring Club of France. I can 
 assure you I did not give up wearing the uniform and 
 trying my best to get near the fighting until it seemed 
 futile. Perhaps after this is written and with a pro- 
 longed war my services may yet be accepted. 
 
 Of course with the stopping of racing at the opening 
 of the meeting at Deauville there was a good deal of 
 hardship to those who couldn't afford the break. 
 Several of the Americans went away at once to the 
 United States, others very wisely kept their horses 
 there at Deauville until they saw what was likely to 
 happen at Chant illy and Maisons Laffitte. As a 
 matter of fact at the French Turf headquarters German 
 troops never occupied the place ; it was only a question 
 of a certain number of Uhlans coming in to see how 
 the country was defended, whether the roads were 
 open, etc. It wasn't a very pleasant experience, how- 
 ever, and only a very few horses were removed — 
 chiefly those of no value, and as I have said they were 
 
 277 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 not much grieved for. What must be admired there 
 was the quietness with which the majority took the 
 advent of the German scouts. They had been warned 
 before of the near approach of the enemy and many 
 of the lads went away, but others of them stuck to 
 tlieir yards quite fearlessly despite the gloomy stories 
 which had been sent down from day to day. 
 
 With regard to the taking of good horses by the 
 Government at a nominal price, of course war is war, 
 but it was heart-breaking for owners to lose valuable 
 animals. They would gladly have paid the price of 
 ten horses. For instance. Lord Loris, who won the big 
 steeplechase at Auteuil in 1914, was taken for sixty 
 pounds I think it was. Still that wasn't the point : 
 the horse languished away under entirely changed 
 conditions, never doing any work at all to speak of, 
 and dying. There were others too which began to 
 droop the moment they were stabled uncomfortably, 
 had changed diet, and lost all the care which had been 
 bestowed on them. 
 
 Speaking of steeplechasing, one of the saddest events 
 in the early stage of the war was the death of Alec 
 Carter. Many may remember that from serving his 
 two years in a cavalry regiment he was given a com- 
 mission in an infantry battalion and was killed very 
 shortly after that. It seems almost a pity that many 
 of the greatest in their various lines should be wiped 
 out when they could perhaps have been used to better 
 advantage. Several of those I have known cannot 
 be replaced, and various sports and games must lose 
 the benefit of such fine teachers. Still again, war is 
 war, and because one man happens to be the best lawn- 
 tennis player in the world he cannot be excepted, but 
 must take the same chance as others. 
 
 During those trying times what was there to do ? 
 
 278 
 
Two Pirates 
 
 Milton Henry and Tod Sloan Fishing /or 'Ircnsitn- in Algiers 
 
ONE AND ONLY HENRY 
 
 Wliere were Americans and English people to go with 
 no amusements ? Where they did congregate was 
 at Henry's Bar in the Rue Volney. Henry Tepe is 
 perhaps the best -known man to Americans in Europe, 
 as for many years he has had the chance of meeting 
 celebrities from my country. It has been quite a 
 usual thing for one important personality to say to 
 another in New York, " I'll meet you at Henry's Bar 
 two weeks next Friday." Both know Henry and he 
 knows each of them, so that a ready inquiry obtains 
 an equally direct reply. If we had as many dollars 
 as Henry we should be all right, or as many dollars as 
 he possesses friends. 
 
 279 
 
CHAPTER XXXVIII 
 
 SUGGESTIONS 
 
 Effect of the " Mutual" — Le Blizon and the Eclipse — Lord Durham's 
 
 Speech 
 
 Or course during my riding career, and since the forced 
 times as a spectator, I have devoted a good deal of 
 thought to the question whether the speculative side 
 of racing was properly conducted, and whether by 
 controlling bookmakers the public could not have 
 a better chance of coming in greater numbers to 
 meetings. The high prices charged for admittance 
 to the exclusive parts of English courses must deter 
 many hundreds from attending — I mean among those 
 who do not feel in their proper place in the cheaper 
 enclosures. Wliat is charged on some days at Ascot, 
 Liverpool, Epsom, etc., is almost prohibitive, and the 
 sovereign for other meetings could be reduced if income 
 was sought for elsewhere. Compare this with the maxi- 
 mum price, sixteen shillings, in France or the three 
 dollars which takes one everywhere in America except 
 the club enclosure. Wliat should be done is to attract 
 as many influential people as possible — thus would 
 racing obtain more friends, which is what it wants to 
 fight those who would do away with it. 
 
 It is very unlikely in the opinion of many that the 
 pari-mutuel will ever be adopted in England, and that 
 England need not regret. Personally I am dead 
 against it. Certainly in France the value of the 
 stakes makes it possible for an owner to pay his way 
 without any betting, or rather I should say a certain 
 
 280 
 
^^v.. 
 
 4 
 
 .:^ 
 
 M. 
 
 "Hknrv" 
 
 Af. He my Tfpc 
 
EFFECT OF THE MUTUEL 
 
 number of smaller owners can exist. Tlie pari- 
 mutuel in fact in some respects might be a curse in 
 England as it is in France. The public has a right 
 to know what is going on in prices, for a " market " 
 makes everything more interesting. In countries 
 where the pari-mutuel is an institution owners throw 
 in their weight at the last moment, frequently when 
 everyone is ready to look at the race. Therefore 
 previous prices can be entirely false. Of course it 
 may be said that owners have to pay their way and 
 do not run their animals for the public benefit, but 
 after all there should be a sort of bond of sympathy 
 between those who run horses and those who by paying 
 their gate money contribute to the " pool " which 
 provides the stakes. The whole topic will always 
 remain a bone of contention, but during many years 
 I have had the opportunity of listening to what others 
 have to say concerning it, and what I have said above 
 is the combination of opinion. 
 
 Another thing : if the pari-mutuel were introduced 
 into England the starting-price bookmakers would 
 have to pay the mutuel prices and there would be the 
 chance of any amount of sharp practice in this respect. 
 A horse might be entirely neglected on the course 
 and returns could be quite false. 
 
 It is often said that the stakes for jumping meetings 
 in England are ridiculously small compared with what 
 is given in France : which is fact. But this could be 
 made so different if bookmakers in England were 
 charged so much a day for the privilege of betting, as 
 was the case in the palmy days of racing in the United 
 States. The fee charged then was one hundred 
 dollars, or twenty pounds, a day, with a guarantee that 
 there should be at least five races on the card. Very 
 much the same thing should be done in the principal 
 
 281 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 enclosure in England. Put it at four pounds a race 
 and reckon out what would be collected, and how 
 much better the prizes would be, and how the entrance 
 money to the big enclosure could be reduced. In the 
 smaller rings this could be perhaps divided by half — 
 I mean the licensing fee for the day, and in the silver 
 " tanks " merely a nominal charge should be made, 
 and, as at one time in America, the minimum sum to 
 be invested could be one shilling and the maximum 
 five shillings. This worked very well when in vogue 
 " over home." In that case it was a dollar as the 
 topmost bet, but that was swept away when eventually 
 any amount could be put on. This spoilt racing and 
 the charge came up of the turf being commercialised. 
 There could not be a five-hundred-dollar bet made 
 without it being tick-tacked across, and they were as 
 " wise " outside as were the big men inside. That 
 kind of thing should be immediately suppressed. 
 The tick-tackers are an infernal nuisance and it would 
 be only fair to sweep them off if, as has been sug- 
 gested, the big men contributed towards the day's 
 fund. It would only be just for the big fellows to 
 have as much of the business as could come their way, 
 and smaller ones paying a much less fee to be restricted 
 to lesser clients and rather petty business. 
 
 I do not wish to be too dogmatic about all this, but 
 my views as a spectator for the last fifteen years might 
 suggest some new legislation, especially as the whole 
 topic is approached from the view-point of experiences 
 in four countries. 
 
 Mr Bottomley gives his strong views on many 
 matters, and it is a pity that a man like he should not 
 have some voice in race-course management. It 
 would be interesting if he would give his ideas as to 
 how bookmakers should be controlled. I know he 
 
 282 
 
LE BLIZON AND THE ECLIPSE 
 
 has opinions of his own on the question. Perhaps 
 a special committee should be nominated to control 
 bookmakers and collect their licence fees. It might 
 too be a question whether all the big men betting in 
 Tattersall's ring should not be compelled to obtain a 
 guarantee from the clubs they respectively belong to. 
 Mention of Mr Bottomley makes me wish to record 
 the sympathy and kindness he has shown me for years. 
 I wish I could have another day like that enjoyed 
 when his horse Le Blizon won a big sprint race at 
 Maisons Laffitte some years back. I followed the tip 
 of his fancying the horse and the result put me on easy 
 street for some months. There is another incident 
 in connection with this horse which has not been 
 recorded in these pages. It was when Jimmy Hare — 
 the father — decided, because I would ride him, to 
 run Le Blizon in the Eclipse Stakes. I think it was I 
 suggested that he should take a chance with the horse, 
 who, as the majority will remember, could not go very 
 well over six furlongs. As in other cases I assured 
 Jimmy that his horse would not be knocked about 
 and although he didn't win he was tickled to death at 
 the show Le Blizon made. 
 
 I hung in behind all the way round at Sandown, 
 getting the advantage of the wind-break of others in 
 front of me and was going great guns up to a furlong 
 and a half from home, for he had run his race for over 
 a mile, stretching out well within himself. It was only 
 that final rise to the winning post of less than a furlong 
 which beat him. 
 
 Tliere are many other non-stayers who could 
 perhaps do just as well if riders would only study that 
 question of getting every advantage of " wind-break," 
 just as a cyclist does from his pace maker ; the screen 
 is invaluable. This does not necessarily mean that a 
 
 283 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 jockey should allow his horse to be " pocketed," but 
 on occasions there is really nothing much against this 
 if a boy is alert enough to get out of it. It is difficult 
 sometimes to discover a horse's best distance — so much 
 depends on how he is ridden. Tliere have been so 
 many hundreds of cases where sprinters have developed 
 into good two-mile hurdlers, and on round courses 
 with careful handling many animals which are 
 assumed to be quite incapable of staying a mile 
 would do so if absolute patience were shown by their 
 riders. 
 
 Failures with regard to a horse getting a distance 
 he is capable of are attributable to various causes, 
 chief of which is lack of knowledge of pace ; and here 
 I might perhaps be excused for putting in an extract 
 from a speech made by Lord Durham at the Gimcrack 
 Dinner in December 1898. 
 
 " Another favourite instruction was ' Get 
 off well and pull your horse at the back of 
 someone else's heels.' No doubt this style of 
 riding had caused numerous falsely won races. 
 It was for that reason that he welcomed the 
 visit of Sloan to this country. Sloan had 
 taught English jockeys that they ought not 
 to pull their horses about in races and waste 
 their energies. He hoped English jockeys 
 would pardon him for saying that he con- 
 sidered that excessively few of them had any 
 tolerable idea of what pace meant, and they 
 seemed to ignore the very elementary rule that 
 the horse which could cover the allotted dis- 
 tance in the shortest time would win the race. 
 He considered that Sloan's reason of success 
 over our jockeys was that he was such a good 
 
 284 
 
LORD DURHAM'S SPEECH 
 
 judge of pace. He submitted that Sloan had 
 been of immense advantage to them, simply by 
 teaching their jockeys that they had not been 
 acting wisely in pulling their horses about as 
 they had." 
 
 285 
 
CHAPTER XXXIX 
 
 PRACTICAL JOCKEYSHIP 
 
 "Fees" of Old-Time Jockeys — The Apprentice Question — Some never 
 rise in Class — Well balanced at Start — Lucien Lyne's Class 
 
 I HAVE just read in an English newspaper how 
 " Skeets " Martin had cleverly won a race. There is 
 an idea about that Martin is much older than he 
 really is. I have seen it stated somewhere that he is 
 bordering on fifty. As a matter of fact " Skeets " is 
 a year younger than myself. My memory serves me 
 correctly he was born in 1875. Wlien in America we 
 knew him as " Harry " Martin. I can remember 
 hearing about him long before I was twenty. I believe 
 he entered a racing stable when he was about fifteen. 
 It was in California that he first made his appearance 
 as a winner ; Mr David Gideon, who has been 
 mentioned in this book, was the first to give him his 
 chance and to take him east to New York. At that 
 time Skeets weighed about 7-2, and it is astonishing 
 how he has kept his weight down : he is something 
 like myself : our great asset has been that we have 
 not put on flesh. One year before he came to England 
 he had twelve hundred and fifty-seven mounts and 
 two hundred and sixty-nine winners. In that same 
 season he had two hundred and forty-two seconds 
 and one hundred and eighty-one thirds. Remember 
 too that he was only twenty-two years of age at that 
 time. 
 
 The performances of other jockeys both before my 
 own time and during my career have always been of 
 
 286 
 
FEES OF OLD-TIME JOCKEYS 
 
 tremendous interest to me. I have alluded to several. 
 For instance it was a matter of history to me that 
 nearly a century before I came on the scene public 
 subscriptions to successful jockeys had been raised, 
 one rider having received nearly one thousand pounds 
 from his admirers for having won the St Leger. There 
 seems to have been no difficulty at that time about a 
 jockey receiving presents from others outside the 
 owner of the winning horse he had ridden ! What 
 would have been thought to-day of a jockey having 
 to stand bare-headed and thank his owner for a present 
 of twenty pounds because he had won the Two 
 Thousand Guineas and One Thousand Guineas in one 
 week? This was what the celebrated John Day 
 received from the Duke of Grafton. Lord William 
 Beresford was my authority for this. However, 
 twenty pounds was rather a fine present in those days, 
 I suppose, for a successful jockey, if he were a married 
 man, received in addition to his usual wages a present 
 of a side of bacon, a bag of potatoes, half a cheese or a 
 barrel of home-brewed ale. Jockeys then were little 
 more than grooms. What a difference it is from 
 potatoes to gold watches, half a cheese to scarf-pins, 
 or a side of bacon to gold cigarette-cases with jewelled 
 initials. We used to read in America that the great 
 George Fordham was the first to ride successfully on 
 American horses. He had been engaged by Mr 
 Richard Ten Broeck, and from what one can hear did 
 extraordinary things on many moderate horses 
 belonging to that sportsman. 
 
 Good jockeys came in plenty long before my period 
 of riding. Such men as Harry Griffin and Snapper 
 Garrison, also the coloured rider Willie Sims who was 
 five years older than me. Fred Taral was eight years 
 my senior. Then there were McLaughlin and Hay- 
 
 287 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 ward. It appears that about fifty years ago, when 
 Mr Ten Broeck first went over to England, Gilpatrick, 
 who had a reputation in America, was not a success 
 in England and was much criticised ; nevertheless he 
 was riding in America for many years after that. At 
 the same time there were others, the Lairds, Purdys 
 and Gil Crane, who rode longer than any other jockey 
 in my country, and I believe more years on the track 
 than even John Osborne. It was Crane who rode 
 in that historic race on the Long Island Union 
 Course, of five four-mile heats, and won on Black 
 Maria. 
 
 Is the present system of training jockeys a correct 
 one ? Tliere seems a good deal lacking in it. To 
 begin with there should be far more events for 
 apprentice jockeys only, and these affairs should not 
 be so poor in interest as many are to-day. If a boys' 
 race happens to be the last on the card many go home, 
 refusing to look at it from either a spectacular or 
 investing point of view. By this kids are apt to get 
 discouraged. In France many a good lad was brought 
 along by the flat races confined to apprentices which 
 used to be run on the old Colombes course. There 
 such as Alec Carter and George Parfrement learned 
 race riding : full-fledged flat- race jockeys could not 
 ride there. Any race-course in England which could 
 put occasionally at least one or two events in the 
 programme for apprentice riders should be specially 
 subsidised by the Jockey Club for the schooling they 
 are giving. Jockeys can be made, although of course 
 some are more apt at picking it up than others. 
 Richard Wootton must be a great teacher judging 
 by the number of clever boys he has turned out. 
 However skilled a lad may become by his work at 
 
 288 
 
THE APPRENTICE QUESTION 
 
 home, he must have practice on a course to bring 
 him on. 
 
 • 
 
 The whole apprentice system is absolutely and 
 entirely wrong— according to the views I have held 
 for many years past. Apprentices should not be 
 allowed to ride in regular jockeys' races until they 
 have graduated and become qualified— in the opinion 
 of others— to be trusted with the care of a horse 
 in a serious race. Some of them never would for 
 years, while others after a year or more experience 
 would be promoted from the ranks. This apprentice 
 question is one of the most important in racing, and, 
 writing as I do in the early spring of 1915, I can say 
 that there was never a better opportunity for the 
 Jockey Club to make experiments by the passing of 
 rules which could be only temporary, or "try-out," if 
 thought fit. It is one of the firmest convictions of 
 my life and I would put it in my dying Will and Testa- 
 ment—if anyone would heed me— that the curses of 
 racing nowadays are : first, the 5 lb. allowance ; and 
 next, the fact that ordinary apprentices are allowed 
 to spoil many races by riding with tried and proved 
 jockeys. When alluding to the Starting Gate there 
 will be more to say on this score. 
 
 With the greatest respect for the English Jockey 
 Club it might be suggested that the whole system of 
 apprentices' privileges should be revised. Apprentices 
 should only be allowed to ride in races put in the card 
 for them. There might be a special committee of, say, 
 three to notice how they behave and what form they 
 show in a race. Every part of the exhibition should 
 be noted : whether they keep their line, how much 
 use they make of a horse and what they do with their 
 whip. Good marks should be given just as in a school 
 
 T 289 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 and a subsequent bad example wipe out the previous 
 records if made. Careful watching by competent 
 judges would "discover" good boys. The know- 
 ledge that they were being watched need not neces- 
 sarily lead to nervousness nor stage fright. Their 
 honesty would be tried and proved, and altogether 
 they would want to get to the top of their class to 
 obtain advancement. Let them keep to their class 
 until they have proved their ability to go with their 
 assumed betters and certainly more experienced 
 rivals. Some boys might attain the distinction when 
 fourteen or fifteen years old ; others— even on a fair 
 trial— might remain until over twenty-one to secure 
 the lifting up into jockey class : this would all depend. 
 The committee appointed should be from the 
 Jockey Club or gentlemen of good social class, so that 
 no favouritism was shown. While on this topic I 
 would favour stipendiary stewards, but only if men of 
 a certain class would accept the position ; it would 
 be impossible with any of those about whom a doubt 
 could exist. The deterioration of the American Turf 
 came about to a great extent by the appointment of 
 what were called " Control Judges " and " Paddock 
 Judges," for included among them were many who 
 could not be expected to wield authority over, nor 
 obtain the requisite respect from, those they were 
 chosen to control. 
 
 Another point I have heard discussed is whether if 
 paid stewards were appointed they should be placed 
 at various stages down the course to watch the 
 incidents of a race or whether it would be better for 
 a presumed trio to be in a crow's-nest above the 
 judges' box. With all modesty I would suggest that 
 the latter would be infinitely the better course, but 
 again with a reservation that the whole idea of salaried 
 
 290 
 
SOME NEVER RISE IN CLASS 
 
 stewards would be absurd unless the right men could 
 be drawn into it. 
 
 Alluding again to the apprentice question, with the 
 exception of the starting gate the present apprentice 
 arrangement has been the worst enemy possible to 
 racing. If the idea mentioned above was carried out, 
 and apprentices up to a certain stage of proficiency 
 kept to their own class, there would be a pride of spirit 
 to encourage them to learn riding and not play monkey 
 tricks in the saddle. The best way possible is for 
 them to observe other riders in their own races and 
 take lessons from their elders or the promoted who 
 were expected to give good exhibitions. During the 
 last few years, judging from the performances of 
 many fully licensed jockeys, I have no hesitation in 
 saying that many should be put back to the apprentice 
 class. This is not said in any way because I do not 
 happen to be in the saddle myself, but because for 
 absolute incompetency many would take a medal. 
 They seem to lose all idea of equihbrium and altogether 
 may have lost their nerve and any knowledge of pace 
 ever possessed and generally are no good at all. Ask any- 
 one in England, from the Stewards of the Jockey Club 
 downwards, whether race riding has deteriorated and 
 they will all agree that it has. Yet it is possible for 
 riding to be revolutionised within the next genera- 
 tion or so. I would repeat, and this very emphatic- 
 ally, that, like aviation in this year of 1915, race riding 
 may be only in its infancy and what Harry Grifhn, 
 Lester Reiff, Johnny Reiff, and perhaps myself have 
 done is only the beginning of what may be discovered 
 by those coming after us. 
 
 But the first thing to do is to battle with the 
 apprentice question and remove that horrible 5 lb. 
 allowance and let them learn properly. One of the 
 
 291 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 effects of this present allowance business may be that 
 a trainer has perhaps only two more rides left for a 
 jockey before he cannot claim it. Those two mounts 
 which may be winning ones are very valuable to him, 
 and he may get a big premium for the services of his 
 boy. Of course a topic of discussion which may be 
 raised is how far a boy should have to stick to his 
 indentures of apprenticeship, and whether when 
 promoted to a proper jockey his trainer should derive 
 the income from his mounts. I leave this to the 
 judgment of others, but there would be an obvious 
 objection if a trainer ceased to have the benefit from 
 that boy's services. To begin with there might be the 
 question of a contract where another would withdraw 
 patronage if a certain boy were not available; and 
 then again a trainer might retard an apprentice's 
 progress so that he should have the benefit of his 
 services for the full term of years. As I have said, it 
 would be better for others to answer this question. 
 
 It must be remembered that the gate too has been 
 responsible for many faults, especially where appren- 
 tices have not learned exactly what methods are to be 
 adopted. They say the gate has done wonderful 
 things. Has it ? Were not the starts just as good 
 before with the old flag start ? It was in many ways 
 far more satisfactory, the children riding having spoilt 
 
 the new. 
 
 The gate has been responsible for more inconsistency 
 of form than anything else. Various records will show 
 that in the thousands of races I have ridden in with 
 the gate I have very frequently got first away. Look- 
 ing back the percentage is remarkable. I first became 
 accustomed to it in California in 1904 ; in fact I had 
 controlled it and was off in front more times than ever 
 before. Tliere are so few who really know it. I 
 
 292 
 
 \ 
 
WELL BALANCED AT START 
 
 should include in those with knowledge such riders 
 as Lester Reiff, Maher, George Stern, Lucien Lyne, 
 Frank Wootton, and Frank O'Neill. Now what per- 
 centage does this give of those riding within the last 
 few years in England, France and Belgium ? It has 
 been spoilt altogether by apprentices when mixed in 
 with horsemen. The youngsters do not know what 
 action a horse is in when he " breaks " for the start. 
 That is why so many of them are thrown right up in 
 the saddle, and even lose their seats, not being in any 
 way in unison with the horse. 
 
 Let it be said here too that it is not always the horse 
 which gets away that can be looked upon as a winner. 
 A well-balanced horse getting away last or nearly last 
 has frequently the " bulge " on the others from 
 the very beginning. Look for yourself in any race 
 meetings you may go to, and the horse which slips 
 into his stride when the tapes go up will certainly 
 have to be reckoned with before the finish. Referring 
 too to inconsistency owing to inability at the gate, it 
 must be remembered that a horse never gets away 
 quite twice alike. It is not always the boy's fault 
 when it is said of him that he has ridden a bad race ; 
 it is often because he is ignorant of the first principles 
 of how to get away. 
 
 I don't suppose any of us can look for any alteration 
 in the rules of racing, and it is certainly not for me to 
 criticise them, but some day the question of the better- 
 ment of racing will have to start on the question of 
 apprentices and the gate ; and alterations made in 
 this respect for these two blots on what are best for 
 the game. It is no use arguing whether the standing 
 start or the walk-up would be better. Let other 
 things be settled first. The gentlemen who rule the 
 Turf are not jockeys, nor will jockeys ever be stewards, 
 
 293 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 so perhaps what may be considered expert opinion — 
 and in this others' views are being reflected — might 
 be worth more than passing notice. Time after time 
 the sporting papers in England voice the opinion that 
 certain starts at Newmarket and elsewhere have been 
 simply terrible, and that a race has been lost at the 
 post, there being no possible opportunity of winning. 
 Look at the reports and see how many times incom- 
 petent youngsters have caused this. 
 
 The unnecessary use of the whip is something boys 
 have to learn about, but I think by the rules of many 
 apprentice races there are, neither whip nor spur is 
 permitted. With regard to the latter I never used 
 them for years before ceasing riding, looking upon 
 them as a totally unnecessary cruelty on a horse, and 
 they should be barred altogether from the race-course. 
 It is a wonder that this topic has never been taken up 
 by the Jockey Club. Nobody who understands racing 
 has ever discussed it from the cruelty point of view, 
 and it may seem strange that a criticism should come 
 from one to whom racing is part of life. There is 
 indeed a strong chance for anyone to take up the 
 question of prohibiting spurs. Many a good horse 
 has been ruined in temper or courage by a spur, and 
 it was a wonder to see them in use so long. Neither 
 do I believe they are at all necessary for cross-country 
 races. As however I have not sufficient experience 
 in that respect perhaps it would be as well for others 
 to give their views on this. Such a lot could be said 
 on the spur question. 
 
 The whip can be of use if properly applied, but at 
 the same time it can be a stopper to a horse. The 
 one great advantage for any jockey who knows how 
 to handle the whip is that an animal can frequently be 
 kept straight, and anyone who knows anything about 
 
 294 
 
LUCIEN LYNE'S CLASS 
 
 jockeyship will agree with me. Lucien Lyne, whom 
 I have always looked upon as one of the best riders I 
 have ever seen, has had to use spurs in Belgium out of 
 deference to public opinion on a race-course, and all 
 those critics and " knockers " he has been up against. 
 If he brought a horse in a loser without a mark of the 
 spur on him it could so readily be alleged that he 
 hadn't tried, whereas public opinion was so easily 
 stilled if the horse was bleeding. They would say 
 that he " took something out of that one at all events," 
 and they would think they had had a good run for their 
 money. 
 
 Lyne is a great fellow to take any tip although he 
 is so well up in his profession and so well off. I 
 suppose we can all learn a little bit from others, and 
 many pointers which I have been able to give him he 
 has always been ready to take at once, and in that 
 way kept himself in touch with what practical men or 
 lookers-on can see of the game. I have always tried 
 to make him take little notice of something which 
 might dash past him in a race, and not go after him 
 at once ; and even if a second came with a rare " bat," 
 so long as there was plenty of time to win a race not 
 to be led away in putting steam on to catch him. It 
 has always been a main idea with me, and I know that 
 many others share it, that a real race-horse knows his 
 business just as well as a rider does, and even a 
 moderate animal well encouraged by not being driven 
 too hard is flattered by the attention, and by the en- 
 couragement given will put his own bit in to go after 
 those in front of him. It is the first principle of 
 riding, and race-horses thus left to themselves with a 
 little hand riding will in the majority of cases do their 
 level best and show the most astounding intelligence 
 as to what is expected of them. 
 
 295 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 Just another reference to spurs. When first success 
 began to come my way they were put aside altogether. 
 Some owners and trainers have come to me saying, 
 " You must use spurs on this horse ; he's a very sluggish 
 animal and you won't get him along unless you do 
 wear them." In these instances I have made the in- 
 variable and polite answer : " I'm afraid you will have 
 to get someone else if you insist upon the spur business, 
 but why not let me try my best without them ? " 
 
 Just another word too about the " crouch " seat or 
 " riding short " which I have heard so much discussed. 
 This is rather an important matter in connection with 
 the " revolution " in race-riding of, say, twenty years 
 ago. It is a great mistake to think that some of us 
 rode short ; in fact it is a misconception altogether. 
 In walking and cantering my stirrups were frequently 
 as long, in fact nearly always, as the old school of 
 English race riders. \^^ien breaking into a canter it 
 was often the same, but once a race had begun, and 
 by the strength of legs the " crouch " assumed, there 
 would be an immediate difference in the action of a 
 horse and his speed. Since then others have quite 
 shortened the stirrup — not with the best results. 
 That is why the term " riding short " came in. Hands 
 and brain have more to do with successful race riding 
 than anything else. 
 
 296 
 
CHAPTER XL 
 
 MORE SUGGESTIONS 
 
 Mr Manning and my Weights — Cash and Santoi — Parading a Mistake 
 
 The best starters, apart from Mr Rowe who has been 
 previously mentioned, that I have ever come in con- 
 tact with have been Mr C. J. Fitzgerald in America 
 and Mr Arthur Coventry in England. The former 
 was the best all-round official ever known in my 
 country ; he was the same to everyone — owners, 
 trainers and jockeys — and had a tremendous experi- 
 ence before being put in a greater position in New 
 York. He was Canadian bom, but spent most of his 
 life in the United States, going there when quite a boy. 
 He started as a sporting journalist and spent some 
 years at this. He knew as much or more than the 
 next fellow on the Turf. He officiated at various 
 meetings in Canada and America. He was so 
 thorough in all his methods, having his own ideas and 
 carrying out what he considered was best. He was 
 one of the first to favour the starting gate, and in that 
 he might be criticised, but it was more in the spirit 
 of progressiveness that he took this up. One of his 
 first ideas was that representations should be made 
 to owners and trainers as to the necessity of schooling 
 their horses to the starting gate. He was quite 
 impartial in the way he ladled out punishment and 
 did not bother about praise, for that was not, to his 
 ideas, ever necessary to his duties. 
 
 I have spoken of Mr Coventry and one particular 
 
 297 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 complaint which he made about me at Sandown Park. 
 Goodness only knows whether I shall ever come under 
 his orders again, so what is said may be taken as really 
 meant. His ability in grasping a situation and 
 throwing his eyes over a very big field is one of the 
 most remarkable powers he has. A thorough horse- 
 man himself he knows when the impossible cannot be 
 tried and would rather risk a delay at the gate than 
 leave an animal, whatever it might be or however 
 unruly it might show itself before the start. While 
 the greatest consideration is given to small boys he can 
 be severe to the older school, but none of the riders I 
 have seen ever like to take a liberty with him ; this 
 comes from both respect and the desire to help him 
 in difficult duties. The task of a starter is so little 
 understood, by the general public. " He's got 'em 
 now, why didn't he let them go," they can say. People 
 several furlongs away imagine they can see all which 
 is taking place, but this is one of the greatest mistakes 
 possible. However this does not upset Mr Coventry, 
 who rides down placidly on his pony, does what he 
 has to, and returns. There was no one madder than 
 he when Nunsuch was left for the Cambridgeshire 
 which has been described in a previous chapter. He 
 bent down and I am sure that he was cursing hard at 
 the misfortune, but I suppose it was only human to 
 be particularly wild that the King's colours had met 
 with a disaster. I watched the starter and his furious 
 regrets and it took off my attention from what had 
 happened to myself. 
 
 I have met Mr Coventry in town on many occasions 
 and he has always been most kind and considerate 
 and with an utter lack of snobbishness ; in fact he 
 was altogether different to many others who were not 
 so well placed nor of such good family. He would 
 
 298 
 
MR MANNING AND MY WEIGHTS 
 
 stop and talk sometimes about racing but more 
 frequently of other matters. I wish that I could get 
 under his orders again. 
 
 This reminds me that when I visited Ascot a few 
 years back I ran across Mr Manning, the Clerk of the 
 Scales, and it was most charming of him to encourage 
 me in the way he did. I was just outside the weighing 
 enclosure and he came behind me saying : " Hurry up, 
 Sloan, and get on your colours. I should like to weigh 
 you out again." 
 
 Charlie Wood was standing near and he said to Mr 
 Manning : "I should like to see him going to the post 
 too." 
 
 Mr Manning added : " That's right, and if you know 
 anyone, Charlie, who can do him any good, don't you 
 forget what I have said." 
 
 And Charlie promised that he would do all he could. 
 
 Mr Manning was always very fair, having no 
 favourites when at his work, usually sharp and 
 severe in his manner. Wlien I first came over I could 
 not get used to stones and pounds. He would ask 
 me my weight and at first I would reply 102 lb. or 
 whatever it was. He gave me a little time, but even 
 later on it was inevitable for me to give the weight as 
 I had always been accustomed to in America. " Will 
 you give me your weight properly ? " he would repeat, 
 and then I had to do a bit of lightning calculating and 
 divide by fourteen. Sometimes I was uneasy whether 
 I had said the right figures, and would have to borrow 
 a card from someone to check what I had given in, 
 but was usually right. When I met Mr Manning 
 away from the race-course he was always congenial 
 and friendly, although as I have said he is very sharp 
 and quick to the boys at the scale. But that is his 
 official manner. By the way, Mr Fitzgerald, of whom 
 
 299 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 I have spoken, was Clerk of the Scales before he came 
 to be a starter. 
 
 Speaking again of that visit to Ascot I saw a lot of 
 my old patrons and those I had ridden for, but 
 I was diffident about going up and speaking to 
 them. Sir R. Waldie Griffith sent Bob Sherwood over 
 to tell me to come and speak to him. He asked me 
 where I had been hiding myself and why I hadn't 
 come over to him ; and I explained that I had been 
 shy about doing so. He was extremely nice and tried 
 to encourage me with hopes that I should " get back," 
 in fact he was so amiable to me — and this was backed 
 up by Sherwood — that I feel quite certain were I to 
 get my ticket again that he would put me up on some- 
 thing, even if I couldn't sit a horse. At all events he 
 would give me a try-out. Tlie kindness I met with 
 that afternoon at Ascot has been one of the gladdest 
 experiences of recent years. It seemed funny to be 
 walking about and not be looking for my horse. 
 
 I was reminded by that trip to Ascot of the one and 
 only time my brother Cash rode in England before 
 taking up an engagement in Russia. He had come 
 over from America, it being his first trip abroad. I 
 was anxious that he should get a chance if he could 
 where I was doing so well, and he came down to Maiden- 
 head where I was staying with Mr George Edwardes 
 for the Ascot week. I mentioned my brother's name, 
 and Mr Edwardes asked how he could ride. I told 
 him that Cash had been in the first class in 1893 and 
 1894 and I had no doubt that he would do all right ; 
 at the same time I didn't know that he had been on a 
 horse for some while. As a matter of fact he plumped 
 right into England and on to that mount at Ascot 
 without getting any preliminary work at all. Mr 
 Edwardes then said he would give him a proper chance 
 
 300 
 
CASH AND SANTOI 
 
 and he should be entrusted with Santoi, who was a real 
 good thing. Cash was delighted of course, especially 
 when I told him what class of horse he was to be on. 
 
 I could see as the hour of the race drew near he was 
 getting a bit nervous. But going down to the post on 
 such a course and before such a crowd he was to be 
 forgiven for having a touch of stage fright. The worst 
 happened that was possible, and surely neither Cash 
 nor anyone else ever rode a worse race. When we 
 were about five furlongs from home my brother sang 
 out to me : " He is hanging with me," of course 
 referring to the horse. " Tlien let him drop in be- 
 hind just for a while," I answered. But he couldn't 
 do that and gave a shocking exhibition, as he himself 
 would admit. Santoi came again with him but I just 
 beat him a head. I would have done anything for 
 him to win short of pulling my own horse, but he ought 
 to have won easily. I said to him, " Sorry, Cash, I'd 
 have given anything to see you win," and his amiable 
 reply was, " ^Yhy the hell didn't you let me then ? " 
 
 Of course Mr George Edwardes and others were 
 furious at the race being thrown away, but I defended 
 my brother with, of course, just the reservation that 
 he hadn't found his confidence. If Cash had won 
 that day I believe he would have stayed in England 
 for good instead of going over to Russia. It was 
 fortunate yet unlucky for him that he had a chance 
 on such a good horse. If he had been on a moderate 
 animal then not so much attention would have been 
 drawn to him, A lot of boys, however, have not 
 shaped so well when they first appeared in a new 
 country as they did afterwards. That is why we 
 should not be too severe in our judgment on them 
 when everything is new to them. 
 
 301 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 As several officials have been mentioned in this 
 chapter and the starting gate discussed in the previous 
 one, there might be just a word or two about the 
 system of judging. Photographing the finishes has 
 been tried in Belgium and the film records kept. I 
 had a chance of seeing one privately on one occasion 
 when it was proved beyond doubt that the judge's 
 verdict was incorrect. Perhaps the system of the 
 film will never come into general use but other things 
 could be devised where a judge would be in a better 
 position to be absolutely correct. To begin with 
 every horse should have his number largely indicated 
 on the saddle cloth. This would help both the public 
 and the official. I also favour raising the height of 
 judges' boxes ; there would be much more oppor- 
 tunity of viewing those in front, especially on wide 
 courses, such for instance as Newmarket. But what 
 should be done also is that there should be a screen 
 erected on one side of the box which should make it 
 impossible for the judge to follow the race with his 
 eye until the horses were almost passing him, then he 
 could take in the first, second, third and fourth. As 
 it is now a judge follows the leaders for a long way and 
 may get one set of colours fixed in his mind and not 
 get it out of it even by the time the verdict has to be 
 given. His duty is to see the horses as they pass the 
 post and that is all. This would be a scheme to try 
 and see how it worked. I am quite sure that there 
 will be many criticisms of this suggestion, chief of 
 which may be that the judge has to look out for foul 
 riding and give his evidence if necessary. My editor 
 reminds me that in the Ascot Gold Cup, when Eider 
 and The Wliite Knight ran a dead -heat and the 
 former was disqualified, the judge's evidence went a 
 great deal towards the decision of the stewards. A 
 
 302 
 
A Hospital Garden Scene 
 
PARADING A MISTAKE 
 
 judge should never be called upon for anything like 
 this, his duty being solely to decide how the horses 
 have finished and nothing beyond it. Looking for 
 other incidents must take thoughts off the real work 
 an official has to do, and he should have no more 
 to say about the running than a man down town. 
 Those matters are for the stewards only. Of course 
 photographing a finish and making the camera the 
 final decider would be all right in the case of head and 
 head results, but doesn't it strike you that the public 
 would be very impatient waiting a quarter of an hour 
 or twenty minutes until they could learn what had 
 reall}'' happened ? 
 
 Another matter which should be altered — again 
 only according to my humble judgment — is the 
 parading on the course which is so customary before 
 big events. Parading round the paddock and the 
 preliminary canter should be quite sufficient. A good 
 horse is apt to get his temper spoilt by being marched 
 down slowly behind others. Frequently an owner 
 can get permission for his horse to be exempted from 
 that parade — why should this be allowed ? If a 
 horse is a bad actor why should a rattle-brained brute 
 be given such a chance ? If he has not been properly 
 broken or trained there is no reason why he should 
 be given a better show than those who know how to 
 behave. It is unfair to a degree. Tliere should be no 
 excuse for and no favouring those who are not fit 
 to do as others do. One can only suppose that 
 there would be a howl from the public if the parade 
 before such a race as the Derby was done away 
 with, but after all the race is the thing and those not 
 able to go to the paddock would have every chance as 
 the field cantered past the stands of seeing all the 
 runners. 
 
 303 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 Old customs die very hard but, as previously re- 
 marked about riding being in its infancy, the whole 
 system of conducting racing may be revolutionised in 
 a generation or two. 
 
 304 
 
CHAPTER XLI 
 
 FINIS 
 
 Trying my Luck— Friends' " Comforting " 
 
 In finishing with some explanation to the public, and 
 especially my friends— those whom I know and those 
 whom I am not personally on terms of acquaintance 
 with — I should like to refer to several things. 
 
 In the first place it must not be stated that there 
 was no idea of earning money both from the first edition 
 and subsequent issues : that, naturally, is the legitimate 
 object of anyone who has something to tell which 
 he feels may be of interest. Real earnings in war- 
 time too can be looked upon as " money from home." 
 Several times lately I have been asked to give the story 
 of a career full of ups and downs, but just as regularly 
 I have declined to do so, for various reasons, some of 
 which may have appeared rather absurd. I suppose 
 among racing people, especially among jockeys, there 
 should be the discretion of silence. But I have waited 
 so many years in the hope that I should be reinstated. 
 
 The wish has come several times to explain away 
 what has not been quite clear to those who sat in judg- 
 ment on me. In this I do not refer exactly to the 
 English Jockey Club and the ruling bodies in France 
 and America, for there are many thousands who have 
 nothing to do with the control of the turf who have had 
 a great deal to say from time to time as to my alleged 
 weaknesses. These I admit, but some of these weak 
 points have not been those charged against me ; in 
 u 305 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 fact, many shortcomings which have been alluded to 
 in these pages have not been known to my critics. 
 
 As I have stated, altogether too much to my detri- 
 ment has been made out over the Ascot incident, 
 and what I was supposed to have said and done with 
 regard to Codoman's Cambridgeshire. My Editor is 
 satisfied that certain unreasonable ideas ought to be 
 altered by what has been explained, but there is more 
 to unburden myself of, and perhaps the best way to 
 do this will be to reproduce a letter I wrote to Mr 
 Luckman when he was sporting editor of The Daily 
 Express and " The Scout " of that paper. He was 
 doing his best at the time, in a series of articles, to 
 show cause why the time had elapsed for any more 
 
 punishment. . 
 
 Here is a reproduction of that letter of mine to him. 
 
 ISth October 1909. 
 Dear Friend Luckman :— There has been 
 some discussion as to what you have written 
 about me which I feel may be too much in my 
 favour, for you have carefully not specified 
 certain things which are in the minds of many 
 as to what I have done wrong. 
 
 For instance : you touch very lightly on the 
 score of my making wagers. People have said 
 to me : " Why have you incriminated yourself 
 so much by admitting that you took up betting, 
 and also not glossing over any incidents of the 
 life you have led." 
 
 Those people never stop to think that after 
 the death of Lord William Beresford and Mr 
 Whitney I never had as a serious adviser any 
 good powerful friend who would take upon 
 himself the task of putting his hand on my 
 
 306 
 
Mv Editor 
 
TRYING MY LUCK 
 
 shoulder and counselling me what to do. Just 
 think of the following instance for a moment 
 and you will better understand what I mean. 
 
 There was a man whom I considered a friend ; 
 he told me, afte?' my having done him a very big 
 service, that he had too much respect for the 
 French Societe to speak for me, but added : 
 " Poor little fellow, I am sincerely sorry for you, 
 because I believe you to be the most honest 
 and straightforward of all riders I have ever 
 known." 
 
 A few years after this, when he was pro- 
 moted to be a steward of the French Jockey 
 Club, everybody in Paris thought : " Now Sloan 
 is sure to get his licence in France." All my 
 friends insisted on me going to see the new 
 steward at 3 Rue Scribe. They said to me: 
 " Don't be backward about it. Get a hustle on 
 you ; it is all for your own good. He'll see 
 you all right." I thought it over and over and 
 was very reluctant to take the advice given, but 
 they persisted, in fact argued me stiff about it. 
 Finally it was no use holding back any longer, 
 and practically I was kicked off — quite in a 
 good-natured way — to take the chance with 
 the magnate. Even when I was in the court- 
 yard and going up the staircase I nearly turned 
 back, for I considered that I knew him better 
 than my friends did, and I made the mistake — 
 a very serious one — of not going on my own 
 judgment. I have regretted it ever since. 
 
 He saw me all right, but made me feel like a 
 worm. The first thing he told me was that I 
 should never have fought the "Societe" (the 
 French ruling body) and that he could not help 
 
 307 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 me. " \^Tiy on earth did you ever do it ? " 
 he went on to ask me. I rephed : " Because, 
 Count, you, who should have advised me, and 
 what you thought then say now, never uttered 
 a syllable as to what I should have done. 
 It would have only required that for me to have 
 dropped the case straight away, and now you 
 ask me why I was such a fool as to do this, that 
 and the other. What vou did do was to turn 
 your back on me, saying you were sorry for me, 
 although you knew all the time that I was as 
 innocent of wrong-doing as He who built the 
 world. No one attempted to advise me; in 
 fact I stood alone, a persecuted man without 
 the slightest help from anyone except Maitre 
 Labori, and he told me that I should surely 
 win but also that I should surely lose by winning. 
 He was right." 
 
 There are many other little matters I could 
 mention as to those who were real good friends 
 to me in England and France — that is, cheery 
 companions, but who were powerless to move 
 one log along to get me my licence. Some of 
 them, good-hearted sportsmen, may have in 
 some way done me more harm than good, for 
 when a fellow is up against it those opposed to 
 him are always looking for reasons why the 
 punishment should be continued, and take a 
 yellow- jaundiced view of everything which is 
 done in private life. Surely there must be 
 enough justice left to allow me to follow up my 
 calling. Perhaps they all think I could not 
 ride ! I will not say anything about this. 
 
 Sincerely, 
 
 J. T. Sloan. 
 308 
 
FRIENDS' COMFORTING 
 
 In the pages of the book I have told how failure after 
 failure has followed my repeated attempts to obtain a 
 licence. This year (1915) another trial was made. I 
 addressed a humble letter to the Stewards of the 
 Jockey Club, but after waiting for three months there 
 IS still no reply. The book would have been completed 
 m any case, for I have told a plain, unvarnished tale, 
 not attempting to whitewash myself, nor posing as 
 the hly-white, for those who go racing know a good 
 many conditions of life. But as the French steward 
 just quoted said, I was " straightforward " and honest 
 as a jockey : I liked winning too much. Wliy, there- 
 fore, the apparently permanent condemned position *? I 
 might not be able to ride, but I have relatives and 
 friends who would think of me in the present and in 
 later years so thoroughly differently if I had the stigma 
 removed from me. The chance of making a living 
 too at something I could do better than anything else 
 cannot be overlooked in the many hours of anxiety. 
 
 Friends comfort me by saying : " Oh ! you'll be all 
 right some day." But when will that some day arrive *? 
 Will it ever ? One after the other of my old friends 
 have gone— my patrons and intimates. I suppose I 
 must think I am getting towards middle age but— 
 here the " personal " is inevitable again— I feel as fit 
 as ever to do anything. Men have been successful 
 when far older than I ; in fact, there are one or two 
 riding to-day. And what about the veteran John 
 Osborne, who retired only two or three seasons back 
 and still rides gallops ? My weight has not increased' 
 my muscles are as strong, while my vision and nerve 
 are unimpaired. There can surely be no " but " on 
 the score of age-limit. 
 
 But again— and finally : why this book *? To 
 explain myself, to put the swom-to-be-true story of 
 
 309 
 
TOD SLOAN 
 
 previously distorted incidents. My one and only Turf 
 misdemeanour was betting— nothing else during my 
 whole career. I admitted this to the Stewards in 1900. 
 I have not retracted in these pages, but I have repented 
 that I was ever such a fool. It cut me off at the age 
 of twenty- five. Having " done " fifteen years I can 
 only pray that some day, in a spirit of clemency, that 
 mercy will be shown to a transgressor — who would 
 never transgress again, even to the extent of a fiver. 
 
 This is not canting or whining, nor a question of 
 " The devil a saint would be," etc., but an appeal and 
 full explanation to those who can reprieve me ; and 
 in addition a recital of certain incidents to reheve 
 the monotony of "too much Tod Sloan." I speak 
 sincerely when I say that I would gladly obliterate 
 myself if only my official obliteration could be cancelled. 
 
 310 
 
Webster Family Libran/ of Veterinary Medicine 
 Cummings School of Veterinany Medicine at 
 Tufts Univerolty 
 200 Westboro Road 
 North Grafton, MA 01536