Jim and Dana Bernhard continued adding to the broodmare band at their newly acquired Pin Oak Stud Tuesday at Keeneland, making their most expensive purchase of the auction when going to $1 million to acquire Sweet Sami D (First Samurai) from the Stonehaven Steadings consignment. The 6-year-old mare sold in foal to Gun Runner. The couple have now purchased six mares at the two-day old auction. Earlier Tuesday, they paid $700,000 for the mare Querelle (Violence).
No matter what privileges or disadvantages we take into the starting gate, and no matter how many circuits we get to run, all of us ultimately pull up at the same finishing line. But it is not just that humbling reckoning, reached within days of each other, that united Billy Turner and Josephine Abercrombie. Their lives, though wildly contrasting, were animated by the same bond of vitality that sustains many who grieve them.
“Mrs. A.”, as she was known to those blessed by her friendship or patronage, embraced the extraordinary opportunities to which she was born with so commensurate an appetite that one might ask how anyone could have compressed so much into a mere 95 years. Besides her careers as horsewoman and breeder, she threw herself with equal gusto into walks of life as diverse as boxing, skiing, dancing and Broadway.
Nor did Mrs. A. measure her benedictions only in material terms, having so prolonged the fulfilment she found in Pin Oak that the stable was only dispersed a matter of weeks before her loss. That said, the fact is that she was never going to require a GoFundMe page to sustain her final days, as was poignantly the case for the 81-year-old trainer of Seattle Slew.
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Affectionate tributes to the skill and charm of Billy Turner did not tiptoe around the corrosion of his prime by a struggle with alcoholism. But he would be very comfortable with that, given his own, hugely commendable candor in reflecting, in later years, on the demons that had accompanied him to one of the summits of Turf history. Turner was only 37 when a $17,500 Bold Reasoning colt came his way, and it's right that people understand why he appeared to receive such scant reward.
Before the Derby, many considered Seattle Slew insufficiently seasoned after just three sophomore starts. The habits of trainers today, however regrettable, make Turner appear to have been ahead of his time. But his true legacy was securing the male line of Bold Ruler, with all its old school virtues.
Like so many of our finest horsemen, Turner learned the ropes in steeplechasing. But in trying to keep his weight down, even as his height soared (by six inches in his 19th year alone), he yielded to temptations natural in a fraternity that rode so hard—and drank so much harder. Then, in soaking up the pressures of a Triple Crown campaign, he found the press equally willing to normalize excess at the bar. (Which charge I, for one, am certainly not going to refute). Those pressures, by the way, can be judged from Turner's pronouncement to a reporter while Slew was still a juvenile. “If he doesn't win the Triple Crown,” he said, “I haven't done my job.”
Turner and exercise rider Mike Kennedy on the way to the track with Seattle Slew in 1977
Doubtless the succor he found in drink contributed to Turner's notorious sacking by the owners of Seattle Slew; certainly it dragged him into desperate times thereafter. Much to his credit, however, he regrouped. If the home stretch brought fresh difficulties, in healthcare and its costs, it's edifying to know that Turner had overcome a still greater challenge, in his own life, than the one he met with Seattle Slew. By any measure, this was a man of accomplishment.
True, while renewing his personal stability, he could not fully reverse the professional odds that had steepened in the meantime. Even so, a Hall of Fame nomination should surely have been revived for Turner by the time he retired in 2016. Fully two decades after the glory days of Slew and Czaravich (Nijinsky), after all, he had supervised a 21-for-55 near-millionaire in Punch Line (Two Punch) plus a third Grade I winner in Gaviola.
The latter was by Cozzene, who also happened to sire the horse that first brought Mrs. A. to the attention of many of us Englishmen.
As in selecting her long-serving farm manager, Clifford Barry, Mrs. A. showed unerring judgement in entrusting Hasten To Add to Newmarket's peerless Victorian throwback, Sir Mark Prescott.
In 1993, Hasten To Add became subject of one of the great gambles in the long history of the Cesarewitch H.
“How far is this race?” asked Mrs. A., when Prescott introduced her to the project.
“Two and a quarter miles.”
“Gee, and how often do they pass the stands?”
“They don't,” Prescott replied. “It's a dogleg course, starting in Cambridgeshire and ending in Suffolk. And it's a handicap. The topweight concedes 28 lbs to some of the others.”
Prescott recalls a moment of silent incredulity at the other end of the phone.
“Really? And how many runners are there?”
“Thirty-six.”
“This I gotta see.”
On the day, when the cavalry emerged from the drizzle and mist, Hasten To Add was just in front. While apparently engaged in a desperate duel to the line, however, he was overhauled by two others on the other side of the track. But Mrs. A. avowed that for all the world she would not have missed an experience she condensed as “all those Dukes ['Dooks'] and Duchesses, standing in the rain looking at nothing…”
Mrs. A.'s immersion in the world of boxing confirmed her to be equal to any social milieu. On the Turf, of course, we take pride in the fact that nowhere else does High Life meet quite so comfortably with Low Life. To the young man I was then, that lent an exotic glamor to this Houston heiress, with her five husbands—and five divorces! But I'm not sure I quite understood, at the time, that Low Life fundamentally comprises a ruinous succession of low days; or that it can do, at least, with the kind of problems that had meanwhile withdrawn Billy Turner from the limelight filled so joyously by Mrs. A.
There's always been a seductive glamor to the Runyonesque margins of our sport, and I've seen good people succumb to it: smart, talented people deceived that flirting with addiction, whether to alcohol or betting or umpteen other temptations, would redeem them from the dread charge of dullness.
People who think this way are also tempted to suspect that the greatness of Seattle Slew, for instance, could only be drawn out by parallel flair. Either a double-edged sword, they say, or none at all.
Well, that's a pretty dangerous formula for living. Doug Peterson was just 26 when the owners transferred Seattle Slew to his barn from Turner. Though he secured the champ his Eclipse Award, as an older horse, Peterson would disappear from the racetrack barely a couple of years later, lost in a spiral of drugs and drink. Like Turner, he showed the resilience and character to embrace rehab; he edged his way back to the track, after stints as an entry clerk and in the gate crew, and in 1999 he saddled 40 winners from just 175 starters. But he was only 53 when he died, from an accidental overdose, in 2004.
All these different lives, rotating with the twists of fate like a kaleidoscope against the shining light of the racehorse. All these different legacies, too. From intimate, domestic ones we cannot know; to the kind of public benefaction that prompted Mrs. A. to found her school in Lexington. But if so many of our comforts prove shallow, or even downright perilous, then how wonderful that we can all share the immortality available through the medium of a Seattle Slew or Sky Classic.
With his famously eccentric libido, Seattle Slew's genetic bequest was a fragile one. Its rescue is one of many debts, by no means confined to such lessons in horsemanship, our community owes to John Williams. Lest we forget, we are blessed to have in our midst the most exemplary people. And little wonder, when they share devotion to the horse: this paragon of constancy, courage and beauty, so innocent of our avarice and addictions.
We may envy the worldly fortune of Mrs. A., and the wealth of experience it supported; but her loyalty is within the compass of the poorest among us. She brought Barry to the farm in 1984. Donnie Von Hemel trained for Pin Oak for 30 years, Graham Motion nearly as long, with Mike Stidham a novice at around 15 years. Before the dispersal, Barry told TDN: “She's about as competitive a person as you could come across, but there'd never be a finger pointed. It was always just, 'We got outrun today and we'll do better tomorrow.'”
That's a motto that would serve us all well—whether seeking the next Seattle Slew, or patching up some old claimer; whether drilling oilwells, or just seeking an oasis in a world full of dangerous mirages.
When Clifford [Barry]'s number flashed on my screen [Wednesday] I had a gut wrenching feeling because I knew why he was calling. We both lamented that Mrs. A was in a better place and how it was “time.” She was one of a kind, a true horse woman, a philanthropist and all the other superlatives people will be mentioning. But for those of us who were fortunate enough to really know Mrs. A, there has never been, and I doubt there ever will be another one like her. When I listened to Terence Collier talk of her accomplishments at the Pin Oak dispersal last fall, I thought of all the stories I would like to share about Mrs. A, but that would take days and some of them aren't exactly appropriate for this publication.
The first time I met Mrs. A, she and her entourage came to Ocala to buy a stallion that we owned. After a few volleys back and forth with offers, she turned and said “aren't you from Texas?” I replied, “yes, M'am” and she said, “let's go in your office and cut this deal.” In less than five minutes we came out and she bought her first stallion Caller I.D. from me and that was done on a handshake. We sold her another stallion and she had fun with it and then said she wanted a good horse if I ever saw one. A year later I called about a horse I was managing for my longtime owner Morton Rosenthal. She and Clifford flew to Florida and once again–on a handshake–she bought Maria's Mon.
But more enjoyable are the Josephine stories that she loved to share when we got together. Here are just a few:
The time she left her dear friend on the tarmac because he was five minutes late to the plane to go to a dog show. He was running towards the plane and she instructed her pilot to take off as she waved to him. Every time we got together after hearing that story, we made sure we were 15 minutes early to any meeting with Mrs. A.
Then there's the one she enjoyed telling a story about how she was a much better skier than her instructor, but she always followed him down the slopes because she enjoyed the view.
And the tales of her travels all over the world were fascinating to hear. She once offended someone at a dinner party in a foreign country and her father sent the plane to pick her up the next morning. But that was Mrs. A, she was truly a lady, but she did it her way as Frank Sinatra would say (but that's another Mrs. A story better told by her than me).
Then there were all the Thanksgiving dinners in Virginia, the birthday parties in Kentucky and Ocala and all the memories of our visits to Pin Oak.
When Maria's Mon died, we sent Mrs. A ,and Clifford each a champagne flute and I still have her letter thanking me and suggesting that every New Year's Eve we would make a toast to Maria's Mon. Just the other evening we got out the flutes, but this time we raised our glasses to Mrs. A, and to Maria's Mon.
She used to ask me to stop addressing her as Mrs. A ,and just call her Josephine and I would almost always respond, “yes, Mrs. A” and we would laugh.
The last time I walked her up those long winding stairs after a dinner outing, I wondered how many more times I would be in her company.
Susie and I will always be grateful to Mrs. A, and we'll get out those Moët & Chandon flutes again and toast a very special lady.
Lifelong horsewoman Josephine Abercrombie died peacefully at her home on Pin Oak Stud in Woodford County, Kentucky Jan. 5. She was 95. Abercrombie is survived by two sons, George Anderson Robinson IV and Jamie Abercrombie Robinson, as well as grandchildren George Anderson Robinson V and Blair Abercrombie Robinson.
Abercrombie, the only child of Texas oilman and Cameron Iron Works founder J. S. “Mr. Jim” Abercrombie and Lillie Frank Abercrombie, was born Jan. 15, 1926, in Kingston, Jamaica. Growing up in Texas, her love of horses begun at a young age, evolving into a passion of American Saddle Horses, which led to her winning a 17 of 20 classes–the most blue ribbons during a single season–at Madison Square Garden. She was also one of only a handful of amateurs to show a World Grand Champion. Her passion for the sport, combined with her strong desire to support civic projects, led her to join her father in creating the Pin Oak Charity Horse Show in the mid-1940's, which supported the Texas Children's Hospital. Abercrombie's success on the horse show circuit eventually led her to major competitions in Kentucky, where she fell in love with the land and the horses.
Turning her energies toward Thoroughbred breeding and racing in the 1950's, she and her father purchased 4,000-acre Pin Oak, in Woodford County, Kentucky, and after 35 years on the original Pin Oak tract–where they raised cattle and grew tabacco–Abercrombie decided to move to a smaller 750-acre farm–named Pin Oak Stud–just down the road to focus solely on Thoroughbreds. A hands-on owner, she was present at many of the births of her Thoroughbreds and was active in the early schooling of young racehorses. Pin Oak hombreds were campaigned in her blue and gray racing silks, the school colors of her alma mater Rice University.
Pin Oak Stud has nearly 70 stakes winners–bred or raced-to its credit, including Classic winners in America and England and Grade I/Group 1 stakes winners in three countries. Among Pin Oak's homebreds are 1990 champion grass mare Laugh and Be Merry (Erins Isle {Ire}) and GISW Confessional (Holy Bull) in addition to top colts who went on to become successful stallions, including 1995 Canadian Horse of the Year and champion sophomore Peaks and Valleys (Mt. Livermore) and MGSW and GISP Broken Vow (Unbridled).
Recognized as the National Breeder of the Year, she also has been honored by the Kentucky Thoroughbred Owners and Breeders with the Hardboot Award as well as the William T. Young Humanitarian Award. Additionally, Abercrombie was inducted into the Texas Horseracing Hall of Fame. In 2018, she was the Honor Guest of the Thoroughbred Club of America in appreciation for her “enduring sportsmanship, acumen and vision, and her devotion to the loftiest principles established by earlier leaders on the Turf.”
With a strong sense of responsibility to future generations, Abercrombie provided generous philanthropic support of civic, educational, and Thoroughbred industry projects, including support of her alma mater Rice University and the founding of The Lexington School.
Funeral arrangements are private. Contributions in Abercrombie's memory can be made to The Lexington School, attention Una McCarthy, 1050 Lane Allen Road, Lexington, KY 40504; Woodford Humane Society, attention Katie Hoffman, P.O. Box 44, Versailles, KY; or the Thoroughbred Charities of America, attention Erin Crady, P.O. Box 910668, Lexington, KY 40591.
