This Side Up: ‘Doc’ Was a Tonic to Us All

Three years ago this week, at the September Sale, I was privileged by as powerful a reminder as I'd enjoyed in a long time as to why this is such a great business. Not in the sale ring itself, watching the billionaires puffing out and locking antlers, but just sitting in the pavilion lobby with a guy who had been born in a one-room house to teenage parents–and had spent the intervening seven decades accumulating the kind of riches, being contingent on a mighty intellect and noble heart, that would forever elude most of those flaunting their wealth just a few yards away.

It was supposed to be a quick chat over a coffee, but as each hour ran into the next, the talk became ever more wide-ranging and fascinating. And, of course, he kept being interrupted: every other face that came through the door would light up, “Hey Doc!”, another handshake, often a murmured exchange on the well-being of some relative or neighbor or colleague, and often too, in parting, a warm expression of thanks for everything he had done.

And now, correspondingly, a whole community finds itself reeling at the loss of one who represented us so flatteringly in a wider, less frivolous world.

Dr. J. David Richardson is irreplaceable enough, purely in terms of a contribution formally measurable in his generous service on so many industry bodies over the years. But even that void does not begin to compare with the abrupt effacement from our midst of a friend to all ranks, from hotwalkers to tycoons.

As one of the most decorated surgeons in the land, Doc was always an amateur on the Turf. But he was no dilettante. He took great pride in the way he had honed his eye, wearing out his soles around the barns, of course mentored by none other than Woody Stephens (his “uncle”, actually his father's cousin). Richardson recommended Danzig as a yearling; and a shortlist of four put together for James Mills in 1985 included Gone West, who was purchased, and Alysheba, who was not.

Richardson, left, with longtime racing partner Dr. Hiram Polk | Horsephotos

But “Doc” also knew that the Thoroughbred is primarily a vehicle of humility. That day at Keeneland he derided the agents who would be going round telling clients that such-and-such a yearling “ticked all the boxes”. Because every year at Saratoga he would see horses that had cost a million bucks running down the field, when the winner cost $22,000, and the second $9,000. “And I wonder if they ticked all the boxes, too!” he said with a grin. “But that's what makes it fun.”

As a man of science, equally, he deplored the shortcuts sold to those of sufficient credulity. Data might be legible across the horse population, but individual capacities depended on too many intangibles. Cardiac physiology, for instance, was not a question of heart size but of function and efficiency. And even that, terribly complex as it was, remained only one element in a huge equation of attributes that had to cohere unreadably to meet the pressures of race day.

One apt memorial to Richardson, then, would be for prospectors returning to Keeneland this week to respect the lore and instinct that always governed stockmanship–and Richardson, typically, had been receptive to lessons learned with a friend who bred Hereford cattle–and to reject the “snake oil” or the software programs where it is often found today.

He remembered going out to Hermitage in 1982 with longtime racing partner Dr. Hiram Polk, to see a yearling filly they had entered for a sale. She was probably the smallest of maybe 20 fillies, but they all got out of her way when she wanted the feed tub. Who would perceive this alpha female in such a diminutive filly at the sales? They scratched her, and in their silks Mrs. Revere was a Grade I-placed, 12-time winner, since honored by a Grade II at Churchill.

If hardly any among us can begin to emulate Richardson in terms of professional achievement, then that should not stop us at least aspiring to his example in our family lives, or as donors of time, energy and experience to our community. Because he valued none of his cerebral gifts above the compassion available to the least of us.

The GII Mrs. Revere S. is still run at Churchill in the fall | Coady

Doc always told students that a little bit of you will die with every patient you lose. But their purpose in life was to help people through traumatic situations as best they could; to be confident–not arrogant, but definitely confident–in their skills; and to accept that some unpredictability of the human organism is unalterable. “I think if you are a compassionate person, it never gets easy,” he said. “If it does, then I worry about you. But if you do something out of love, then you never do the wrong thing.”

It is not as though a man who salvaged so many lives from the brink had failed to contemplate his own mortality. A few years ago he had survived a health crisis that allowed him to nurse his wife through her final days; and then, happily, to be consoled by new love and remarriage. But now that unpredictable human organism has pulled a vicious shock on us all, with grief rippling out in widening circles from what has always been a very close family.

Our society has few enough men of this stamp, never mind the narrow walk of sporting life we tread. Doc's passion for Thoroughbreds dignified our whole business. He made you feel that if such a sage and accomplished human being could be equally enthused, then ours could not just be some trivial, dumbass obsession. So if we borrowed something of his human luster, while blessed by his living example, let's now try to honor Doc by preserving it as our own–in how we engage with this business, and with each other.

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Letter to the Editor: Mike Caruso

Very seldom does a person make the impact that “Doc” [Dr. David Richardson] made on so many people in so many different areas. He was a quiet genius in the fields of both medicine and Thoroughbred racing, an achievement that is so rare. He combined the qualities of intelligence, communicative skills, and an unparalleled memory with humility, generosity, and empathy. His loss is irreplaceable to those he called “friend.” If you were privileged to be among them, as so many of us were, you have a hollow feeling today. A giant has left us.

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Letter to the Editor: Catherine Parke

The impact of losing David Richardson has taken a tremendous blow to the hearts of the many people that adored him. David was an extremely intelligent, insightful leader who's passion and energy was directed to the greater good of our industry. If you were fortunate to have him touch your life, you ended up a much better person altogether. David died on the last day of his beloved Saratoga race meet.

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COVID-19 Claims Dr. J. David Richardson, Ky-Based Owner, Breeder, Regulator

David Richardson, M.D., a distinguished Kentucky-based surgeon who owned and bred Thoroughbreds for nearly half a century and was known as a thoughtful, cerebral racing regulator whose zeal for the sport shone through in his volunteer service on numerous industry-related boards, died Sept. 7 in Saratoga Springs, New York, after developing pneumonia related to COVID-19.

Richardson had been briefly hospitalized in the intensive care unit at Saratoga Hospital; he was believed to be 76 years old.

Chauncey Morris, the executive director of the Kentucky Thoroughbred Association and Kentucky Thoroughbred Owners and Breeders (KTA/KTOB) organization, confirmed the details of Richardson's passing to TDN. Morris noted in an email that Richardson had been vaccinated against COVID-19.

“David was a remarkable man who touched so many lives in his capacity as a brilliant surgeon, mine included, and seamlessly blended his Eastern Kentucky sensibilities with his dual professions and passions of horse racing and medicine,” Morris wrote. “There are countless people on the backside and frontside who literally owe their lives to David thanks to his keen observations of some health issue which led to first-class treatment, despite [a patient's] ability to pay.”

Tommy Drury, who trained horses for Richardson, wrote on Facebook that, “My heart is truly broken, as I'll never get the chance to thank you for all you've done to make my life better. RIP Dr Richardson. My life just won't be the same without you.”

James David Richardson (he was generally known by either just his middle name or “J. David” to friends) was the first child born into a working-class family in Morehead, Kentucky. According to a biography published earlier this year in The American Surgeon, Richardson was an outstanding student who rose to be valedictorian of his high school class, winning a state essay contest on ethics and citizenship while also teaming to win the Kentucky debating club championship.

Richardson graduated from Morehead State University in just three years with a near-perfect grade point average, then was awarded a scholarship to the University of Kentucky (UK) medical school.

Upon graduating from UK in 1970, he was recruited as an intern and resident to the Department of Surgery at UK, then transferred to the University of Texas at San Antonio where he completed both general surgery and thoracic surgery residencies. Richardson subsequently became one of the nation's few quadruple board-certified surgeons (general, thoracic, vascular and critical care surgeries).

Soon after, Richardson was recruited to the faculty of the University of Louisville, where for decades he served as a professor and later as vice chair of surgery. In 2014, he was elected president-elect of the American College of Surgeons.

“I did big surgery,” Richardson told TDN in a 2019 profile. “The first liver transplants in Kentucky, for example. I ran a trauma program for years. Major surgery is extraordinarily high stakes, high risk, high reward–and a lot of pressure. But while I've never had to do horses for business, I'm very sympathetic with people who do. If you've paid a big stud fee, or bought a high-priced mare, and are counting on that to make your nut for the year, I would think that's a very intense thing. Great when it works, terrible when it doesn't. It's not like life and death. But it's certainly a lot of pressure.”

In response to Richardson's passing, the University of Louisville Hospital released a statement Tuesday which read, “U of L Health extends its sympathy to his family and is grieving with them. He was an outstanding mentor and skilled surgeon who saved the lives of thousands through his work and education of many future doctors. Dr. Richardson was a beloved member of our family and will be missed.”

Horses had fascinated Richardson since boyhood, when he would leave friends at the Coney Island amusement park in Cincinnati to bluff his way, underage, into the adjacent River Downs racetrack. He bought his first Thoroughbred in 1975, at age 30, and had his first stakes winner in 1978.

“I enjoy all aspects of it,” he told TDN. “I like to bet. I like to breed horses. I love to race horses. Even in claiming races, I still get a kick out of winning.”

While carving out a career as a young medic, Richardson was taken under the wing of Hall-of-Fame trainer Woody Stephens, who was a family member and, like Richardson, had also risen from modest means in rural Kentucky to achieve wider success in his chosen field (Richardson called Stephens “Uncle” even though the trainer was Richardson's father's cousin). Through Stephens, Richardson availed himself of opportunities to learn everything he could about selecting, raising and training racehorses.

By the early 1980s, Richardson had learned enough to get involved in picking out some of the better-known horses campaigned by owner Henryk de Kwiatkowski that Stephens would go on to train. Among them were Danzig, Conquistador Cielo, and Sabin.

According to his American Surgeon bio, around the mid-1980s, Richardson began to devote more time to owning his own horses, especially broodmares. “Either by himself or in partnership with others, he has raised and sold over 1,000 horses that have ultimately won races at different tracks,” the bio stated. As of earlier this year, Richardson owned about 40 horses in various stages of development.

“I've spent tens of thousands of hours working things out,” Richardson told TDN in 2019. “I've looked at thousands of yearlings. I've looked at broodmares, November and January, snow knee-deep or bitter, freezing my butt off. So to me, that's part of paying your dues, and trying to become better versed, and staying up with the game. Because if you really do that carefully, you see how sometimes horses that win races aren't the prettiest things, or the best conformed.”

When it came to acquiring his own horses, Richardson relished that challenge of coming up with overlooked contenders that outran their auction purchase prices. In 1991, he bought eventual MGSW Northern Emerald in partnership for $55,000; she won the 1995 GI Flower Bowl H. Richardson also co-owned the homebred MGSP Mrs. Revere in the 1980s; that filly now has a stakes race named in her honor at Churchill Downs.

Richardson was a member of The Jockey Club, and twice served as president of the KTA/KTOB. He served as chairman of Thoroughbred Owners and Breeders of America and also as chair of its American Graded Stakes Committee. He also served on the Breeders' Cup Board of Directors.

“It's a tough business, but it's a great sport,” Richardson told TDN in 2019. “Horses are such wonderful creatures. I take a lot of people out to the track–we do it every year with the surgical residents–and the joy people have when they experience racing, even as novices, is amazing to see. So I hope we never lose that.”

According to Morris, Richardson is survived by his wife, Maxine, and three children.

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