The story of Seabiscuit is an intriguing one - the tale of a horse noone believed would, or could, ever become a winner. Except, that is, for trainer Tom Smith, who believed in Seabiscuit's potential from the start. A grandson of the great
Man O' War,
Seabiscuit would go on to great things under the tutelage of Tom Smith.
The
Remington Carriage Museum has two fine articles on the statue and on
Seabiscuit and George Woolf posted on its website. Rather than paraphrase, I'll let them tell you the rest of the story, first of the statue, then of what was perhaps Seabiscuit's greatest race, against
War Admiral at
Pimlico Racecourse on November 1, 1938.
A second, very complete article on Seabiscuit, and the race, is
here.
"A life-sized bronze statue entitled "So Long, Charley" was unveiled at the Remington Carriage Museum on July 17, 2010.
This amazing statue depicts Cardston born jockey George Woolf riding America's most famous racehorse, Seabiscuit, to victory in the 1938 "Race of the Century" against War Admiral, ridden by jockey Charley Kurtsinger. As Seabiscuit pulled away from War Admiral at the beginning of the homestretch, Woolf called out to Kurtsinger "So long, Charley!" Since that day in 1938, "So long, Charley" has become a common expression, but few know that it originated from an Alberta jockey. George Woolf and Seabiscuit still ride on through history."
The $150,000 statue was commissioned by Cardston ranchers Jack and Ida Lowe and created by Artist Don Toney. It is being donated to the province of Alberta.
In 1938 Woolf was the leading jockey on the American horse racing scene, and the contest with War Admiral was billed as the “Race of the Century”. The Admiral was the prohibitive favorite, so much so that only racing journalists from Seabiscuit’s base in California gave “the Biscuit” a chance. But owner Charles Howard, trainer Tom Smith and jockey Woolf had other ideas.
The eastern press talked of Seabiscuit’s poor chances, and the opposing stable and their jockey, Charley Kurtsinger, openly derided the thought that Seabiscuit was anywhere near a credible challenge to War Admiral. Meanwhile, literally under the cover of darkness, Smith and Woolf were training Seabiscuit to respond to the starting bell with a burst of speed.
Seabiscuit’s other principal jockey, Red Pollard, was also an Albertan, from Edmonton. Sidelined with a shattered leg received in a riding accident, from his hospital bed Pollard advised Woolf to take the lead, but allow War Admiral to catch up before the homestretch and look Seabiscuit in the eye. The result, he predicted, would be explosive.
On race day the experts were immediately confounded when Seabiscuit bolted to a two-length lead off the starting line, taking the rail position which War Admiral had won in the pre-race draw. Seabiscuit led around the first turn, but down the backstretch War Admiral steadily closed the gap between them, until going into the far turn the horses were even.
They matched stride for stride for a quarter mile, running like a team in harness until they rounded the homestretch turn, where Woolf held Seabiscuit back imperceptibly, just enough to allow War Admiral to look him in the eye. The explosion predicted by Red Pollard was immediate, and as Seabiscuit surged ahead, Woolf looked over his right shoulder at Charley Kurtsinger.
Shouting “So long, Charley!”, Woolf pressed his face to Seabiscuit’s neck and called for all his horse could deliver. And deliver Seabiscuit did, opening a gap of a head, a length, two lengths down the stretch. War Admiral ran his best time ever at the distance, but lost to Seabiscuit by four full lengths. That evening, Seabiscuit was chosen by the sportswriters as 1938’s Horse of the Year.
And still they ride on through history, George Woolf and Seabiscuit, in a run to immortality.
From the Remington Carriage Museum