THE FIRST BIG ‘CAP : In 1935, When 35 Cents Would Buy a Meal, a $100,000 Race Was a Big Deal--and Was Big News

By almost any standard, Saturday, Feb. 23, 1935, was an astonishing day for news. Or a day for astonishing news.

The front page of The Times that morning revealed that:

--Wiley Post, foiled by a broken oil line the previous day, would try again to fly from Los Angeles to New York at high altitude as soon as weather conditions were favorable.

--A 4-year-old girl in Oakland had swallowed a sardine can key.

--Authorities had branded as a hoax reports that fossil remains of a Pygmy race had been discovered in India.

--A blinding dust storm had killed a man in Wakeeney, Kan., when his car stalled and he tried to walk home.

--Chinese bandits had seized an Australian missionary in Shensi Province.

--Italy was moving closer toward war in Ethiopia.

--The Duke and Duchess of Kent would be going shark hunting in Jamaica.

--Charles (Buddy) Rogers had denied that he would become Mary Pickford’s next husband.

--Airplanes were keeping President Roosevelt awake and would be banned from flying near the White House at night.

And, in the upper left-hand corner of the front page, alongside Will Rogers’ column, there was the story that attracted the most attention. The headline read:

HANDICAP’S WINNER WILL GET $109,500 Purse To Smash World Record Richest Turf Race in History Lures Illustrious Field in Speed Spectacle Today

The first Santa Anita Handicap was big news. Front-page news. In Depression-era America, when a generous meal cost 35 cents, a $100,000 horse race meant far more than a $1-million horse race does today.

And what a race it would be! Santa Anita was intent on climaxing its first season with an event to rival anything Churchill Downs, Belmont Park or Pimlico had to offer.

From the perspective of today’s 50th running of the Big ‘Cap, the Arcadia track obviously succeeded. One look at the 1935 field tells as much. The racing stars of the day were almost all there:

Equipoise, the “Chocolate Soldier,” winner of 29 of his 50 races and still regarded as one of the finest handicap horses ever, would be making his 51st and final start.

Twenty Grand, the 1931 Kentucky Derby and Belmont Stakes winner who narrowly missed winning the Triple Crown when he finished second in the Preakness Stakes, came out of retirement to run in the first Big ‘Cap.

Mate, who had denied Twenty Grand his Triple Crown by winning the Preakness and who had finished third in the Derby, also was going to the post for the last time.

Then there was Faireno, winner of the 1932 Belmont Stakes.

And Head Play, who had won the 1933 Preakness after finishing second in the Derby.

And Ladysman, who had been second behind Head Play in the Preakness.

And Good Goods, third in the 1934 Belmont Stakes.

And finally, along with a dozen other hopefuls, there was Azucar, an Irish-bred former steeplechaser seemingly outclassed by the big names around him.

The jockeys, too, were the best: Raymond (Sonny) Workman would be aboard Equipoise; Silvio Coucci, winner of the first race ever run at Santa Anita, had the ride on Twenty Grand; George Woolf would guide Azucar to the post.

But, as popular and well known as the horses and their jockeys were, it was the size of the purse that had racing fans abuzz. And to see who would win it was why they flocked to Santa Anita on the morning of Feb. 23, 1935.

THE SCENE

“About 50 customers for the infield were on hand when the barrier was lifted promptly at 10 in the morning,” The Times’ Bill Henry wrote the next day in describing the scene. “They broke nicely, led by a nicely built filly in a green dress.

“After crossing the track, there was considerable crowding on the turn for the bridge across the gully, and a tall entrant in a felt hat, saving much ground, went into the lead as the filly in the green dress was carried wide.

“By 1 o’clock, it was estimated that there were not less than 15,000 of the dollar customers on hand (in the infield). . . . One smart lad showed up with a stepladder and planted himself on top of it where nobody could impede his view.”

The weather in Los Angeles that day was fine but blustery. There was no smog and, even had there been, it would have been dissipated by the “roaring northwester which tore an embryo storm to shreds.”

At Santa Anita, however, the wind did not appear strong enough to cause, in the words of one writer, the “potentates of American finance, emperors of society, regal scions of America’s famed families, plus the rank and file” any great difficulties.

The Times’ Paul Lowry, in fact, described the wind as merely a breeze.

“Adding a dramatic touch to the scene, as thousands jammed the infield before the start of the races, the red and black colors of Lucky Baldwin were flung to the westerly breeze across the track,” Lowry wrote.

Henry, meanwhile, had turned his attention to the mutuel windows.

“Well, well, well,” he wrote. “So this is the Depression! You should have seen the folks battling like steers in a stampede to lay the family bankroll on the line. More than $150,000 had been wagered on the Handicap before the horses got on the track.

“No official figures were available on the crowd. . . . If the truth were known, there were probably 45,000 actual paid admissions, and that’s probably more people . . . than ever paid to see a race in this country. Race track crowd estimates are as big as a movie actor’s estimate of his own importance.”

The stars who were there, including Bing Crosby, Fred Astaire, Al Jolson, Clark Gable, Carol Lombard and Mae West, must have enjoyed that last line.

Still, they and the rest of the crowd--attendance later was officially put at 34,269--bet a record $802,983 that day, a single-race record $239,335 on the Santa Anita Handicap alone.

The jockeys, meanwhile, were engaged in betting of another kind.

“About an hour before the races started, half a dozen of the pint-sized jockeys were indulging in a forbidden crap game on the roof of their hangout,” Henry wrote.

It wasn’t long, however, before their attention was riveted to the track. The first race, for $800 claimers, brought immediate excitement.

As the horses thundered down the stretch, one spectator, apparently thinking that all had passed him, made a dash from the infield across the track to the terrace. He ran smack into the path of War Over, who went down, throwing his jockey.

No one was seriously hurt, but it added a touch of drama to an already electric atmosphere.

The Big ‘Cap, the sixth race of the day, was to be broadcast nationwide and even carried by short wave to England. It was 4:33 when the call to the post was made, race caller Clem McCarthy announcing the entrants.

The crowd pressed closer to the rail. Finally, it was time.

THE RACE

In a fraction more than two minutes, it was over.

Azucar, the reformed steeplechaser, had stunned them all by stealing the show. The 7-year-old gelding had carried the yellow and blue silks of Detroit lumberman Fred M. Alger Jr. to the richest payday in racing history.

Azucar’s victory in 2:02 1/5 netted Alger “the staggering sum of $108,400.” Alger had bought the horse from Joseph E. Widener the year before for $8,000. Trained by James Rushton, Azucar paid $26.80 for a $2 bet. Ladysman was second, Time Supply third.

Those are the facts. In his front page story the next day, Lowry described the drama.

“It was a delirious, madhouse finish as the reformed barrier jumper who was purchased to run in England’s famous Grand National steeplechase next year, came from far behind to (win),” he wrote.

“A crowd of 45,000 screamed and howled themselves horse (sic) as Azucar piled into the straightaway with a two-length lead and held on in the final drive to the finish line.

“Hearts thumped violently. Brows throbbed. The goose pimples crept up one’s neck. Men’s hands shook as with the palsy. Women fainted.

“From 14th place, Azucar ran the race of his life to sweep past first one then the other of the 13 thoroughbred greats--one of the greatest fields of race horses that ever went postward anywhere.

“Overcoming the terrifically fast pace set by . . . Ted Clark . . . Azucar came like an express train between the first and last turns. He won his race on the backstretch, and when he hit the straightaway he not only had passed every other horse in the race but had piled up a two-length lead.

“At the quarter he was 14th. At the half he had gone by two horses . . . at the three-quarter-pole he had passed six other horses.

“On and on he came. He gathered power as he ran. Faster and faster he charged. Around the turn swept the field. Only Ted Clark and Time Supply were still ahead of Azucar.

“With great space-devouring strides, he fairly leaped to the front. Past Time Supply. Past Ted Clark. Big gaps opened between Azucar and his closest pursuer.

“Could he hold that sizzling pace? Into the straightaway drove Azucar with the field in mad pursuit.

“His drumming hoofs had piled up a two-length lead. Once in the lead he was never headed. The race was over. Azucar had killed off the field.”

The Daily Racing Form’s official chart was more subdued: “Azucar, splendidly ridden, lacked the necessary early speed to keep up but gained gradually and coming strongly after entering the stretch got to the front in the final furlong and although bearing out a trifle near the end, won easily.”

The Times’ Henry, mixing metaphors with abandon, had this to say: “Azucar, beautifully held on the rail, let the others kill themselves bucking the wind, then breezed home in front of the gale like a yacht with all sails set.”

And what of the great names?

Well, Equipoise, for example, finished seventh. Twenty Grand could do no better than 10th. Azucar had beaten the best.

Because he did, today his name will be remembered along with those of more famous Santa Anita Handicap winners such as Seabiscuit, Noor, Round Table, Affirmed, Spectacular Bid and John Henry.

But Azucar will always be the first.