The Day the Horses Stopped Running...
Copyright, A. Allan Juell, 2019. Frist appeared in the October 16th, 1999 issue of Thoroughbred Times. All Rights Reserved.
During the winter of 1909, the New York Jockey Club voted to cease racing operations for the 1910 season. Horse racing would no longer be conducted in the state of New York or, for that matter, most of the United States. New York Governor Charles Evans Hughes, son of a Methodist-turned-Baptist preacher and reformer, had finally prevailed in a four-year battle to outlaw gambling in New York.
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| Charles Evans Hughes |
While
preaching the “Protestant virtues of integrity, sobriety and industry” in his
campaigns against gambling, what Hughes really wanted was to dry up the
enormous funds being diverted from gambling revenues to the political machine
known as Tammany Hall, an organization affiliated with the Democratic Party
that through graft and influence literally ran the city of New York unchecked.
Not unlike
some of the political conflicts of the 1960’s and 1970’s, this fight pitted
oil-guard New York conservatives against the rapidly growing power of immigrant
entrepreneurs men and women who took quite literally the principles of free
enterprise and capitalism.
It was a
clash of two very different worlds and societies, and in the end money would
determine which faction – the old or the new – would control power. Their
confrontation foreshadowed even greater changes in American society, and
Thoroughbred racing – as the result of a tragicomic dispute between racetrack
owners and bookmakers – caught in the middle of the fray. In this case, the
sport’s factionalism nearly led to its demise.
New
York Racing in Another Era
August 26, 1896: Gravesend racetrack
opens; owners of the Brooklyn Jockey Club are Michael and Philip J. Dwyer.
1895: Gambling other than at racetracks outlawed in New York.
1895: Charles Evans Hughes appointed counsel to state Senate panel investigating New York City.
1906: Charles Evans Hughes elected governor of New York.
June 11, 1907: Agnew-Hart Racing Bill becomes law, outlawing gambling both on and off racetracks.
1909: The Jockey Club votes to cease operations.
1910: Racetracks close, owners ship horses out of state or out of country, sell them to the Remount Service, or have them euthanized.
April 10, 1910: Charles Evans Hughes nominated to United States Supreme Court.
1913: Racing resumes in New York without legal wagering.
1895: Gambling other than at racetracks outlawed in New York.
1895: Charles Evans Hughes appointed counsel to state Senate panel investigating New York City.
1906: Charles Evans Hughes elected governor of New York.
June 11, 1907: Agnew-Hart Racing Bill becomes law, outlawing gambling both on and off racetracks.
1909: The Jockey Club votes to cease operations.
1910: Racetracks close, owners ship horses out of state or out of country, sell them to the Remount Service, or have them euthanized.
April 10, 1910: Charles Evans Hughes nominated to United States Supreme Court.
1913: Racing resumes in New York without legal wagering.
Philip J. Dwyer in the May 28, 1910, issue of The
Thoroughbred Record:
“Why
should the racetrack officials close the gates” he asked. “The new bills refer
to bookmaking and gambling. The Jockey Club and the Racing Association have not
permitted any transactions of such character since the Ives Pool law was wiped
out.”
Dwyer
Brothers:
The roots
of the struggle reached back into the 19th century. Enter the Dwyer
brothers, Phil and Michael, Irish immigrants and butchers who managed to make a
fortune in New York’s thriving meat-packing industry. Upwardly mobile and
socially ambitious, they built Gravesend Racetrack in Brooklyn in the mid-1880’s,
hoping to cash in on New York’s almost insatiable appetite for gambling.
However,
they were far from being part of New York’s cultural elite. Phil, a pragmatic
businessman, only felt “sporting” when the ink was black; Michael a hopelessly
addicted gambler known for dropping huge sums of money on longshots. By 1900,
the brothers had parted company, at least in a business sense, but both
continued to hold court at the track.
The
brothers represented a sifting tide in the social demographics of Eastern
cities. As early as 1855, 52% of New York City’s population was foreign-born, a
result of the Industrial Revolution’s unending need for men, women and children
to work in the textile factories and the new manufacturing plants.
Immigration
changed the face of American society and created a yawning social chasm never
before witnessed in the young nation. Locked out of the more dignified
professions and businesses, some of the newcomers made their livelihoods in
gambling, which the New York Post described
as “New York’s biggest business.”
In time,
the social stratification neatly defined the gambling and antigambling camps.
At first, the churches pitched their tents with the gamblers because the
trickle-down theory kept the collection plates full. The real split took place in Albany, New
York’s state capitol, where gambling revenues began to upset the political
status quo. In truth, reformers really wanted to turn back the clock,
redistribute the wealth, and break the back of a new and menacing cartel
composed of immigrants and primarily Irish Roman Catholics.
The siren
of social reform in New York wailed around 1860. New York’s population between
1840 and 1860 had increased by more than a half-million people, most newly
landed immigrants.
A few of
these newcomers migrated toward illicit activities such as gambling because it
offered them a degree of social mobility within their own group. Money from these activities provided a sense of
self-esteem and a somewhat naïve confidence that these new Americans could
indeed control their own environment. That was not the case. Over the next 50
years (until about1900), New York’s theme was the “rich get richer and the
poor…more numerous.”
City
Services:
Most immigrant
populations settled in ethnic neighborhoods, seeking comfort through the
familiarity of mutual misery. City services such as gas, water and electricity
were private enterprises, and many were controlled by the Democratic political
bosses at Tammany Hall who traded votes (and political power), for the bare
necessities of life.
City
services were lucrative ventures, and they were a steady source of patronage
jobs. Apparently though, they not run particularly well. By the early 1900’s,
conservative New Yorkers were shocked to see their community described as “the
unhealthiest city in the world,” and the source of the criticism was their own
New York Post.
Corruption
was so rampant the word ceased to have any real meaning. If the Bronx wanted
gas to light its street lamps, then it would have to accept four or five
poolrooms and a house of prostitution to go along with it.
Hughes, the
future governor, was appointed to serve as counsel to a state Senate
investigatory committee in 1905 to investigate New York city’s gas industry,
and he got a good look at the tangled relationship between politics, business
and gambling. Newspaper accounts of the hearings not only awakened the public
to the degree of graft but also made it painfully clear on who was picking up
the tab: the consumer.
As the
gubernatorial campaign of 1906 approached, Hughes entered the political
spotlight. Incumbent Frank Higgins, wounded by the gas investigation of the
previous year, was hammered for allowing New York City to operate like a
medieval fiefdom.
He was
being challenged by Democrat William Randolph Hearst, the millionaire
publisher. Hearst, both courting Tammany Hall and simultaneously trying to
distance himself from it, was known to have aspirations for the White House.
Higgins was powerless to overcome Hearst’s manipulation of the New York press.
Hughes
Elected:
Anticipating
a Democratic landslide, Higgins withdrew, passing the nomination to Hughes, who
was running a reformist campaign under the banner of the Progressive Party.
When the ballots were finally tallied, Hughes was the new governor, and he
wasted little time in making good on his promise to clean up New York City.
His first
targets were the banking industries and public utilities, the same groups he
had cut his teeth on in the Senate hearings. Included in this group were the
telephone and telegraph companies, which were both heavily involved in his
third target: gambling.
In
actuality, gambling had been outlawed since 1895, the result of a constitutional
amendment that outlawed “lotteries, poolrooms and bookmaking.” The same year
though, the New York legislature had passed the Percy-Gray Law legalizing
racetrack gambling. The only problem was that most of the gambling was going on
uptown in Manhattan poolrooms, far from the racetracks.
Hughes
first attempted to have the Percy-Gray Law repealed, arguing that it was in
conflict with the 1895 constitutional amendment. However, the new governor was
in for a fight. Racing interests were lining up in defense of their livelihood,
and unlike their public personae as little more than seedy gamblers, the ranks
also included New York social icons such as August Belmont and James R. Keene.
Financially, racing interests had deep pockets and were more than
willing to use “their almost unlimited resources to maintain the security of
their position.” Even the conservative-minded New York Times was skeptical about repealing the law, primarily because the
statute guaranteed 5% of all racetrack receipts for the maintenance of
agricultural fairs throughout the state.
:
How
System Worked:
How did the
gambling system operate? Bookies were licensed at the various tracks by paying
a flat fee through their respective syndicates (poolrooms), sometimes as much
as $1000 a day for the privilege of accepting wagers both on and off the track. Odds, results and payouts were
telegraphed back and forth between the racetrack and the poolrooms.
Not
surprisingly, many racetrack owners had a financial interest in the gambling
halls, and the borough bosses who controlled the police had many reasons to
keep gambling businesses in operation as well. Thus, policemen focused on
keeping the poolrooms open and controlling the competition, not enforcing the law. Michael Dwyer,
the consummate gambler whose knowledge of horsemanship was highly suspect,
nonetheless was listed as the official trainer for Boss (Richard) Croker, the Lord of Tammany Hall.
As early as
1900, the proliferation of poolrooms in the city began to affect attendance at
the racetracks. While these outside establishments continued to grow, the
actual number of bookies paying tribute to owners such as the Dwyers remained
about the same, with technology contributing to the efficiency of off-track operations.
At the head
of this new communication industry was Western Union, which by 1907 was
processing more than 74-million messages a year in New York alone while posting
profits of $5-million over the same period. The source: a vast network of wire
services connecting racetrack bookies to the uptown poolrooms.
Also vying
for gambling revenues was the New York Telephone and Telegraph Co., the
not-so-distant cousin of the modern-day AT&T. Both companies were highly
private enterprises with their finances and operations completely outside state
control. If a municipal authority questioned the nature of their business
and/or clients, they either burned the ledgers or moved their operations
offshore, quite literally relaying the information via wireless from ships
stationed off the coast of New York, or in Chicago’s case, from the middle of
Lake Michigan.
Fragmentation and competing interests have always been a part of
horseracing; the interests of the racetrack owner and the bookmakers often collided
then, just as racetrack and horsemen often disagree today on how to equitably
distribute income from horse race wagering. The very public disagreements of
1906 certainly aided those who wished to shut down racing and its money
machine.
The Dwyers
were not amused by the loss of revenues. Just prior to the spring meet of 1906,
the brothers decided to raise bookmakers’ fees to $4000 a day. Naturally, the
bookies and poolrooms balked, refusing to pay the significantly higher fee.
Phil Dwyer, the far more aggressive of the brothers, then cut all the telegraph
wires to the racetrack.
With only
two days to go before the Gravesend meet opened, Western Union responded by
purchasing the defunct Sleight’s Hotel overlooking the track. Under contract with
Peter DeLacy, one of New York’s gambling kingpins, Western Union was faced with
the potential loss of a third of its income. Concerned, but undaunted, the
telegraph company ran new wires from the hotel to DeLacy’s string of gambling
halls.
The only
problem was that the view from the hotel included everything except the finish
line. Western Union compensated for this inconvenience by hiring runners who
raced back and forth from the track to the hotel with information on the finish
of each race.
Pinkertons
Lock Gates:
When the
Dwyers got wind of this activity, they hired 130 Pinkerton detectives under the
command of Robert A. Pinkerton, who with his brother, “Big Bill,” headed the
National Detective Agency. Once the 8,000 or so patrons entered the track, the
detectives locked the gates. Their job: to patrol the grounds and eject anybody
even remotely suspected of being a runner.
Not only
did this action cause a great deal of indignation among the track’s patrons,
but it also set off a journalistic frenzy. Typical was a headline in the New
York World: “Track a Prison! Thousands Penned Up On Brooklyn Race Course. Pinkerton
Sluggers Club Inoffensive Citizens!”
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| Pinkerton "Sluggers" |
The
Pinkertons were labeled as “hybrid policemen” and “chuckleheads” by the New
York press. Stories circulated of sick old men and women with babies being
denied permission to leave the track. Newspapers let their biases be known too,
with the Times and Sun leading the anti-gambling crusade,
the Herald and World taking the opposite side. Reporters were at work on both
sides circulating misinformation, unfounded speculation, and, in the spirit of
the contest, outright lies. All of New York got caught up in the escalating war
of words.
With no
real way to leave the track, Western Union’s operatives inside the track
mimicked the real horses by wearing numbers on their backs corresponding to
runners in the races. When the results were posted, these “human horses” would
run their own race through the paddock, and the order of finish was duly
recorded by telegraphers on the roof of the hotel. The Pinkertons began chasing
the “horses,” who, in a panic to escape a clubbing, often fled the area in the
wrong sequence, leaving gamblers like DeLacy with multiple results and dubious
payouts.
Runners
also tried using hollowed-out wooden balls in which they had scribbled race
results. These were tossed over the track fence to be retrieved by other
runners who would sprint to the hotel to post the results. More often than not,
the Pinkertons would intercept the balls, change the results, and leave the
them to be discovered by unknowing Western Union employees. Occasionally, the
balls would hit the wrong target, the Times
reporting a story about one man “who was knocked senseless” by an errant
ball.
Western
Union agents also smuggled in carrier pigeons in an effort to post results.
Most ended up as target practice for the sharp-shooting Pinkertons. Like the
wooden balls, some pigeons were captured, their messages changed, and they were
freed to go on their way. It did not take DeLacy long to figure out that ten
40-1 longshots in one day lacked a certain degree of credibility.
Fencing
Off Hotel:
The
racetrack was idle over the summer, but the Dwyers were busy just the same.
They commissioned the construction of a 65-foot-high wooden fence facing the
Sleight’s Hotel, effectively blocking the view to the track. Two days before
Gravesend was scheduled to open its fall meet, carpenters showed up at the
hotel and added a 42-foot tower to the top of the hotel’s cupola. The New York World reported that “no circus tent ever
went up faster.” Opening day had the Dwyers’ carpenters adding ten feet to
their wall, followed by an additional story haphazardly slapped on to the hotel.
Both structures began to shake uncontrollably every time the wind blew. “The
Brooklyn Jockey Club (the Dwyers), owned the race course," DeLacy boasted, “and
has the right to withhold its news if it can. But I don’t think the effort will
be a success. We need that information and we’re bound to get it.”
Despite all
the construction, telegraphers still could not get a clear view of the finish
line. The track had also moved the odds and scratches board under the judge’s
tent. Western Union went public, offering $25 to any patron willing to provide
the necessary information to the hotel. DeLacy went so far as to rent two large
locust trees from a neighboring farmer, posting his most agile agents in the
uppermost branches. The Dwyers simply built another fence.
Meanwhile,
the Pinkertons were increasing their vigilance. They noticed a tall young man
in a close-fitting gray coat behaving strangely near the paddock. He would
button and unbutton his coat, raise and lower his hat, hold his pink sporting
sheet at various angles, mop his brow, and bow in different directions. As
suspected, he was signaling a man in one of the locust trees, who in turn was
fanning himself with a large palm frond – Morse code, from track to tree to
hotel.
Women
joined in as well. The World reported
a case of the “most innocent looking woman in the grandstand” playing with a
baby. She would open and close a parasol to the delighted amusement of the
child – dots and dashes to the spotters in the trees. A rainstorm finally ended
her correspondence.
Another
woman was arrested at the gate when it was discovered that she had a dozen
carrier pigeons sewn inside her dress. Even women with babies were drafted,
changing diapers after each race in a predetermined pattern. As a result, the
finish results made their way to the gambling halls.
Off-track
Crowds Decline:
Bit by bit
though, DeLacy was feeling the pinch. Crowds at the poolrooms were dwindling,
and complaints grew more vocal. Often, horses would be announced “at the post,”
but would fail to “be off” for a half-hour or more. Stretch runs could take as
long as two minutes, and a two-minute race would require a half-hour or more
before the results were posted.
Both sides
in the dispute had also reached their structural limits, at least as far as
carpentry was concerned. Western Union erected a series of 90-foot tall poles.
A wiry telegrapher in spiked boots scaled the mast, setting up his office and
an American flag on the very top. Phil Dwyer erected his own 120-foot poles
with giant cross-beams and canvas sheets to block the telegrapher’s view.
Gravesend looked like a giant schooner ready to sail through Brooklyn.
The
Pinkertons were gaining notoriety as little more than paid thugs, which in
reality they were. Confrontations grew more heated and violent, threatening to
degenerate into a shoot-out like the one at a Chicago track where the local
sheriff was shot dead by city police. Gambling aside, it was apparent that New
York City was descending into anarchy and authority was being auctioned off to
the highest bidder.
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| An Uptown Poolroom |
New Yorkers
were incensed, even if somewhat confused over exactly what was going on. Many
citizens as well as track patrons viewed the Dwyers’ locked gates as an affront
to the democratic principles they cherished, not to mention abusive and overly
greedy. The public fully expected New York’s finest to intervene, but they were
having none of it. War was war, and for the most part the civilians were caught
in the crossfire.
Hughes’s
Coalition:
New York City’s chaos played into Governor Hughes’s plans. Up in Albany, he was busy
pasting together a coalition of lawmakers and civic groups to push through a
new round of anti-gambling legislation. His main allies were Senator George
Agnew and Representative Mervin Hart. Hughes was also able to get the clergy to
forget their sectarian differences in favor of what he called “moral
legislation.” Even the YMCA got involved, sending cadres of members throughout
the state to lobby for a legislative proposal known as the Agnew-Hart Racing
Bill – legislation designed to outlaw gambling both on and off racetracks.
The first
hearings were held on March 4, 1907. James R. Keene, acting as counsel for the
Jockey Club, the de facto regulatory agency of American racing, concluded his
extensive testimony by offering a moral lesson for the committee: “Racing
enthusiasts are concerned with improving the breed of horses…My opponents are
seeking to improve the breed of men.” His message did not fall on deaf ears.
The debate raged in the Legislature for a month before the bill was finally
placed before the full house. After four hours of acrimonious debate on April
4, it failed on a 25-to25 tie. The Legislature adjourned on April 23, but a
determined Hughes called for a special session to meet May 11th.
"Racing enthusiasts are concerned with improving the
breed of horses...my opponents are seeking to improve
the breed of men" James R. Keene, counsel for The
Jockey Club."
In the
interim, he once again stumped the state seeking support for the antigambling
legislation. In an odd twist of fate, Senator Stanislaus Franchot, representing
the Niagara-Orleans district, unexpectedly died, creating a vacancy in the
Senate. Hughes focused all his energies in a campaign for a replacement
favorable to his views. When the bill was reintroduced on the floor (on the
final day of the special session, June 11), the Agnew-Hart Racing
bill became law, passing by the single vote the governor personally delivered.
Racing
Stumbles On:
Legally
disconnected from gambling revenues, racing stumbled along for a few more
months. During the winter of 1908-’09, leaders of the various racing
associations in New York and the Jockey Club held heated meetings to debate the
future of horse racing in the state. Facing the prospect of financial ruin for
their industry, they still chose to go forth with the 1909 season. To their
surprise, both Belmont Park and Gravesend opened to record crowds, primarily
due to loopholes in the Agnew-Hart bill.
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| 1904 Brooklyn Handicap |
The
legislature was quick to react, passing two amendments; one outlawing oral
betting, which the New York appellate court had previously ruled legal, and the
other a law making racetrack owners personally and criminally liable for
activities that take place within their establishments. It was the second
amendment that broke racings’ back. The Jockey Club voted to cease operations
for 1910. Horse racing would no longer be conducted in the state of New York.
Several of
the most prominent owners and breeders exported their best horses to England
and France. Fearing the loss of purses to American owners, France banned all
but European-bred horses in its flat races. Many good American-bred racehorses
ended up as cavalry mounts for French officers in World War I.
New York
was not the only state affected by the black-out. Similar statutes were passed
in other states with a strange collection of repercussions. With New York
effectively out of the picture, the Kentucky Derby by default ended up as the
richest (and later, most prestigious), race in the United States.
America’s
leading owner, Samuel Hildreth, retained his title by campaigning his horses in
Canada, even though the stable’s earnings had dropped 69% -- a good indicator
of the economic impact of the ban. Racing also found a niche in Juarez, Mexico,
where Pancho Villa was a frequent patron.
A good many
Thoroughbreds were simply auctioned off, although the glut of unemployed
racehorses made them almost valueless. Some horses were exported while most
were simply euthanized.
Threat
of War:
The trend
was only reversed by the threat of war in Europe. The U.S. Army, through the
Remount Service, was actively petitioning the White House to alleviate a
service-wide shortage of horses. Thoroughbreds were still a necessary ingredient
of the U.S. Cavalry. Even as late as 1918, the armed forces had as many as
5-million horses. The Remount Service needed Thoroughbred stallions for the
Army’s breeding program. Even though the armed services were rapidly
mechanizing, the Army attempted to maintain a similar inventory of horses up
until the middle of World War II, long after the presumed obsolescence of the
cavalry. Without horses (and mules), the campaigns in China and Burma would
have failed.
Many state
governments were also feeling the economic pinch. In New York’s case, the 5%
contribution to the agricultural sector evaporated, causing many rural New
Yorkers to question the real value of gambling reform. State fairs were
canceled or scaled back, while programs as innocent as 4-H or Future Farmers of
America were chronically starved for funds. In New York City, the demise of the
city’s “biggest business” left thousands unemployed.
In New
York, the political fallout could have easily toppled Hughes’s regime, but on
April 10, 1910, he was nominated to the U.S. Supreme Court, thereby terminating
his reign as New York’s leading reformer. The year also witnessed the failed
re-election campaign of Senator Agnew, co-author of the anti-gambling
legislation, and the sudden resurrection of Tammany Hall under old Boss Croker.
The gambling prohibition experiment was faltering, perhaps foreshadowing the coming ban on alcohol
and its ultimate failure.
By 1913,
racing resumed in New York but still without the benefit of legal wagering.
Between 1913 and 1915, numerous states’ statutes against gambling were
overturned by higher courts on the grounds that “one man gambling against
another man was not illegal.” These rulings led to the national growth of the
so-called Paris Mutuels System, a mechanized form of betting that pitted one
patron against every other patron, thereby removing the middleman or bookmaker
from the equation.
The
racetrack was guaranteed a percentage of total wagering but had no direct
access or control of either odds or results. This effectively destroyed outside
gambling interests and rendered irrelevant most arguments in the anti-gambling
lobby. The Pari-Mutuel System, as it is known today, is the only system of wagering in use today at
all North American tracks.
The reform
fights of the early 20th century also had a profound impact on
American business. Banking and financial institutions felt the first crunch of
coming regulation. Utilities like Western Union were subjected to government
oversight and later full regulation. Though real reform did not come until
after both Prohibition and the Great Depression, the die had been cast.
The
Gravesend dispute was far more than a fight between two Irish butchers and the
off-track bookmakers. Instead, it was a class struggle fought over who would
control the American Dream within the borders of the country’s most populous
state. In retrospect, the game was played to a draw.
Did a moral
question really exist? It is probably doubtful. But the battle did have its
victims. Gravesend racetrack never reopened; the Dwyers decided to develop the
property for real estate.
Finite
Authors Note: World War I led to deaths of almost 28-million people; both soldier and civilian alike. The worldwide cataclysm also led to the deaths of well over 400,000 horses, many euthanized at the war's close. No one knows exactly how many American Thoroughbreds were lost -- the victims of domestic policies at home and the failure of a broader diplomacy abroad. But it would take decades for the sport to recover.
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