Tracking Down a Ghost
April 28, 2013

I have spent many hours trying to find out some details of Big Red’s latter days, and now I am doing it again. I stumbled upon another blog with a wonderful post on Big Red, and some of the comments sent me onto another one of my Big Red excursions, desperately seeking info on Red’s final days and his old home and barn.

His old home, Faraway Farm, is now called Man O’ War Farm LLC, I believe. Or Mt. Brilliant. But I think Mt. Brilliant is adjacent to Red’s old home. Both are on Huffman Mill Pike in Lexington. Supposedly the grave of the great Domino is nearby, however I can’t find that either. Not on Google (blame Google)!

I’m using Google, Google maps, and Google Earth, along with info from the blog, it’s comments, and some photos by Barbara Livingston.

Still can’t find it! Can’t find his old barn – or barns. Seems he had more than one at Faraway. Can’t find his old paddock or his old grave site (prior to its move to the Kentucky Horse Park).

I’m missing a lot of information and am probably more than a little confused.

Seems the only way to find out for sure is to head a couple thousand miles out there and snoop around myself!

It is the weirdest, Ray Kinsella – type feeling I have. “Something’s gonna happen there, I don’t know what, but we’ll find out when it does!”

I think his ghost may be waiting for me.

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Big Red
January 10, 2013

The days are long at Belmont.

Speed they never learn.

And it’s many a day since Man o’ War

Has looped the upper turn.

The guineas stopped their rubbing,

The rider dropped his tack

When the word went round that Man o’ War

Was coming on the track.

The crowd was hoarse with cheering

At ancient Pimlico

The day he won the Preakness-

But that was long ago.

The dust is deep at Windsor,

The good old days are gone.

And many a horse is forgotten,

But they still remember one.

For he was a fiery phantom

To that multitudinous throng-

Would you wait for another one like him?

Be patient: years are long.

For here was a horse among horses,

Cast in a Titan’s mold,

And the slant October sunlight

Gilded the living gold.

He was marked with the god’s own giving

And winged in every part;

The look of eagles was in his eye

And Hastings’ wrath in his heart.

Young Equipoise had power

To rouse the crowded stand,

And there was magic in the name

Of Greentree’s Twenty Grand.

And Sarazen has sprinted,

And Gallant Fox has stayed,

And Discovery has glittered

In the wake of Cavalcade.

We watch the heroes parading,

We wait, and our eyes are dim,

But we never discover another

Like him.

A foal is born at midnight

And in the frosty morn

The horseman eyes him fondly

And a secret hope is born.

But breathe it not, nor whisper,

For fear of a neighbor’s scorn:

He’s a chestnut colt, and he’s got a star-

He may be another Man o’ War.

Nay, say it aloud–be shameless.

Dream and hope and yearn,

For there’s never a man among you

But waits for his return.

-Joseph Alvie Estes, Blood Horse, October 23, 1937

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