Glamour (def.): a) from 18th c. Scotland, deriving from the word grammar, and meaning knowledge of the occult, as in casting a magic spell, “the girl was under a glamour;” b) in modern-day usage, enchantment or magic; an attractive and romantic quality that makes certain people and things seem appealing; beauty or charm designed to attract or appeal, e.g. ” in the evening, pin long hair up for more glamour.”
Women subjects featured in the earliest days of photography, and they almost as quickly found themselves paired up with horses, whether at horse events or in portraiture.
A casual search through “vintage woman & horse” on any search engine will turn up literally thousands of early postcard images of women and steeds.
Unlike the photo of the woman on horseback in the ocean (dated 1909), the other pose is the most typical of how women and horses were pictured for postcards in the early days of photography. The horses are usually striking, the women, typically long-haired, pale-skinned and turned out in exotic dress, all designed to spark the fantasies of the viewer.
Too, photographs of women and equines are popular in newspapers in the early decades of the last century. Many of these are quite charming. They depict a time when the horse was a vital part of life and leisure activity. And the images of “society” women and girls at horse shows — of which there is no shortage — are, at times, downright glamorous.
How the connection between women and horses became such a popular theme in the early days of photography remains somewhat of a mystery. Freud pronounced on the affection of women for the equine, deeming it an expression of a (suppressed) libido. Decades later, scholars in women’s studies speculated that as the power of women over their own lives faded (for the women of antiquity in some cultures were actually very powerful), the symbol of the horse came to represent the longing of women to be autonomous, to be free to decide and act for themselves and to hold power over the course of their own lives.
But whereas such theories might grab our attention, vintage photographs of women and horses were not a case of women depicting women, and selfies were an unknown commodity. The photographers were almost always men, and there was indeed something about the connection between equine and the fairer sex that they found irresistable, that captivated them. So much so that “woman and horse” deserves to be a photographic genre in the first decades of the last century.
None of this romance was lost on photographers of the sport of horse racing. And while there was not an inundation of images of women and thoroughbreds, there are enough to suggest that the subject resonated with horsemen and the racing milieu as much as it did with society at large until the 1940s, when its popularity almost completely dies out.
This is not to say that images of women of the sport, from owners to stable folk, don’t exist after the mid-twentieth century, but merely that later photographs weren’t typically interested in the glamour of a beautiful and/or famous woman with a powerful and/or famous equine. And this was a reflection of societal forces at work, for in the decades following WWII the definition of “glamour” was changing, as was the magic associated with the horse and the sports where they were featured.
Man O War became a household name and a legend in his own time, blazing his way to victory after victory. He was magic. He put everyone who beheld him “under a glamour,” the same kind of glamour associated with a movie star or a society belle.
When “Red” retired, his fans were not to be denied, and tours were duly arranged under the supervision of owner Samuel Riddle. Fans flocked to Faraway Farm from around the world: “…Will Harbut kept ledgers for visitors to sign and when Man o’ War died in 1947 there were 63 ledgers containing over 1.3 million signatures.” (Excerpted from Deep South USA online)
1.3 million signatures. Astounding. And I’m betting that at least half of those were girls and women, and among them, women who were famous. For there could be no denying the likelihood that a horse of such power and presence could have been overlooked the popular culture of the time. It meant that stars like Jeanette MacDonald (above) wanted to see and be seen with Man O War.
The Roaring Twenties were years of flappers and fashion, but these were mere expressions of a brand new century’s decidedly non-Victorian aspirations. Horse racing was a favourite sport of the privileged, as shown in the preceding images and images of the affluent flocking to the track was popular fare for the sports photographer.
In expressing the glamour of the track and thoroughbred ownership, images like these contributed as much to growing a (racing) culture as did prominent racing families like the Vanderbilts and the Whitneys.
Prominent families whose wealth gave them purchase to the finest of everything, and the women in particular, brought an allure that only added to the romance of manicured spaces, handsome thoroughbreds and the thrill of competition.
A new standard was born: if you were a wealthy and influential businessman, it was de riguer that you ran a stable of thoroughbreds or, at the very least, that you dabbled in racing. It was a matter of social status. If you were a woman related to said businessman, the race track was a place to “see and be seen.”
And just as the “common man” flocked to the “pit” in the Globe Theatre during Shakespearean days to experience the entertainment of a play, while the privileged looked down on them from above, so the middle and working classes flocked to the race track, standing on the tarmack below the boxes and reserved seats of the wealthy, eager to be part of the glamour and excitement of the sport.
The Thirties was a decade of socio-economic misery, as well as one of high art, leisure sport and fashion.
It was exciting days in horse racing, beginning with Gallant Fox’s 1930 Triple Crown for the storied Belair Stud and owner William Woodward, Senior.
The very first American woman to become a leading owner of thoroughbreds during the “Dirty Thirties” was Isabel Dodge Sloane, the wealthy founder of Brookmeade Farm and a fashion icon. Her best runner was Cavalcade (b. 1931), althought the year of his Triple Crown campaign, Isabel had the distinction of having another of her colts, High Quest (b. 1931), beat him into second in the Preakness.
Another Brookmeade champion, Sword Dancer (1956), would give Isabel a Belmont Stakes win in 1959. There was no disputing that the wealthy Dodge heiress was a horsewoman worthy of considerable respect.
But that didn’t stop the press from photographing Isabel endlessly. In the many images of her with her champion thoroughbreds, the essence of the glamour of horse racing finds its purest expression. In short, a glamorous woman paired with a champion like Cavalcade was the kind of publicity sports venues dream about.
Alfred G. Vanderbilt’s Discovery and Cavalcade met again in the 1934 American Derby. Still another colt would join them: Helen Hay Whitney’s Singing Wood.
You could be forgiven for overlooking this in 1934:
Helen Hay Whitney was far more than just another pretty face. Following the death of her husband, she managed Greentree stud and Greentree Stable; so expert and influential was her knowledge of both steeplechasing and flat racing that she was inducted posthumously into the National Museum of Racing and Hall of Fame as one of its Pillars of the Turf.
In this light, it might seem superficial to focus on the glamour she brought to the sport. But like Isabel Dodge Sloane, Helen Hay Whitney was the height of fashion and handsome as he was, Singing Wood certainly plays second fiddle to her in this photo. It was images like this that also reinforced the notion that horse racing, even at a time of economic despair, was primarily the playground of the rich.
Before the days of Cavalcade and Discovery, there was a colt named Equipoise who didn’t need anyone besides himself to conjure glamour. Not even Cornelius Vanderbilt Whitney’s second wife, the attractive Gwladys Crosby “Gee” Hopkins (above), could compete.
Gwladys looks decidedly uncomfortable here even though she rode and participated in events like the United Hunts Racing Association’s “Autumn event,” where she was photographed by noted turf photographer, Bert Morgan. However, she was a society girl even before her marriage to Whitney, and capturing her next to racing’s beloved “Chocolate Soldier” most certainly gave the photo a little extra cachet.
The days of such glamour at the track are over, although a nod is given to them in the costume and headgear of the Kentucky Derby, the Queen’s Plate and Royal Ascot.
But once in awhile, in the modern era, a thoroughbred comes along who wears an aura that conjures up another time, a time when thoroughbreds walked in magic.
One of a very select group was the filly, Genuine Risk.
Look at these two standing side-by-side, you jusy know that a story is being told. But without any other available data, the authentic version of the narrative has clearly been lost. But in 1980, the cultural and photographic tradition of capturing a thoroughbred superstar in the company of a woman who would merit the viewer’s attention was not entirely forgotten, the way Christmas trees aren’t forgotten at Christmas even though few today can say what they represent.
But why would Twyla Tharp consent to be pictured with the great Genuine Risk? On a superficial level, the two appear to have no connection whatsoever. Except that in the summer of 1980, the pair had the market in fame and enchantment cornered.
Genuine Risk aka “Genny” had won the Kentucky Derby, the first filly to win it since Regret in 1915, and the North American public fell under her spell, madly besotted with the big, chestnut filly. She also ran second in a controversial Preakness and in a soppy Belmont Stakes. To this day, Genuine Risk remains the only filly to complete the Triple Crown — and she did it with distinction.
Twyla Tharp had just brought dance to Broadway — something that had never happened before — and she was the darling of New York theatre goers.
So Genny and Twyla seemed a perfect match for their photographic debut, and Fred McKinney, a senior photographer with an outstanding oeuvre to his credit, knew it. His depiction celebrates a different kind of glamour to the Twenties and Thirties — the magic and potency of “girl power” — of two females on two different stages whose accomplishments were as brilliant as they were historical.
Rare as are images like the one of Twyla Tharp and Genuine Risk today, in the Twenties and Thirties women gave the sport of horse racing its muse, complete with a glamour that punctuated its rise in popularity. But these decades are anchored in an age much much different than today.
Still, the past frames the present with history and memory.
And some memories reach out to us through time, giving us an opportunity to be bathed in enchantment.
BONUS FEATURES
- The 1980 Kentucky Derby — extended version, with Eddie Arcaro, Jim McKay and Howard Cosell.
2) Man O’ War in some rare racing footage
3) An old newsreel featuring news of the 1920s & -30s, including the 1920 Kentucky Derby
4) Gallant Fox — 1930. Also footage of Alcibiades, track announcer Clem McCarthy and some well-known horsemen.
THE VAULT: Horse racing past and present 