THOROUGHBRED RACING : Threewitt Finds a Familiar Ring to Drug Charges

The rash of supposed positive cocaine tests discovered by the California Horse Racing Board since the fall of 1988 has created sour memories for trainer Noble Threewitt.

When Threewitt, 79, hears the accusations, including the most recent ones involving five colleagues, then reads the conflicting laboratory reports and sees the procedural bungling by the racing board, he can hardly believe it’s all happening again. But it is, and Threewitt’s heart goes out to the trainers ensnared in the web of bureaucracy and damning publicity.

“I know what it feels like to be falsely accused,” he said.

As president of the California Horsemen’s Benevolent and Protective Assn., Threewitt is in a position to rally support for reforms in drug testing of racehorses. In addition to training a small stable at Santa Anita, Threewitt is coordinating meetings among owners, trainers and racing commissioners. His organization hopes to establish criteria for test levels and consistent procedures for investigating positives, neither of which currently exist.

Threewitt had no such influence 50 years ago when his budding business suddenly was interrupted by the most famous drug-testing controversy of the era.

In June 1941, word leaked out from the racing board that nine trainers--including Threewitt, Graceton Philpot, Stanley Devore and Darrel Cannon--were being held liable for traces of caffeine showing up in the postrace tests of thoroughbreds they ran at Hollywood Park.

The primary technology of the era was based on a saliva swab. But the Hollywood “positives” were discovered through urinalysis, the new wave in equine drug testing.

Furthermore, in those days, the racing rules held both the trainer and the owner responsible for any illegal substances found in their racehorses. The horses in question were owned by some of the most powerful people in racing, among them studio moguls Louis B. Mayer and Harry Warner, real estate developers Bill and Ed Janss, and William Leavitt Brann, a member of The Jockey Club and owner of 1939 and ’40 horse of the year Challedon.

At a meeting in the Hollywood Park clubhouse on June 14, 1941, the flamboyant racing board chairman, Jerry Giesler, a noted trial lawyer, held forth for more than an hour on the veracity of the test results and his determination to press on with the investigation, no matter who was involved.

“No standard of proof is necessary,” Giesler maintained, “since horse racing is a special benefit--a privileged business over which the Horse Racing Board has full power to rule and act.”

Giesler’s intransigence prompted a firestorm of protest. A petition made the rounds calling for his ouster. Mayer, known for his incendiary temper, demanded that Giesler should buy out his thoroughbred holdings. Prominent owner Neil S. McCarthy threatened to take his horses elsewhere.

George S. Stratton, proprietor of Circle S Ranch, sadly announced: “My horses are for sale. I do not care to risk my reputation of 50 years by allowing my horses to race here under present conditions.”

Giesler dug in his heels. “I say that if the investigation of the illegal stimulation of racehorses causes any owner to leave, then it is better for California that he is gone,” the chairman said.

Giesler was viewed by some as a righteous crusader, by others as a political opportunist. Joe H. Palmer, writing in “The Blood-Horse,” said that “in the face of the attacks already made . . . this observer would like to say a good word for Mr. Giesler. But a hard morning’s thought fails to produce one.”

In the end, Giesler’s intentions did not matter at all. His attempts to enforce the rules of racing as he saw them were undone by rampant contradictions among the drug-testing experts of the time.

In the weeks after the original accusations, it was learned that:

--No amount of the original urine samples in question remained for independent re-testing.

--One of the original nine horses, supposedly under close scrutiny and in isolation, produced a second positive test for caffeine.

--Six horses given caffeine under clinical supervision produced tests differing from the nine in question.

--Dr. Charles Morgan of the New York Racing Commission testified that the substance in question was not caffeine, but something he referred to as “Unknown 17.”

--Dr. Roger Truesdail, founder of the board’s official testing lab, admitted there was an element of doubt in all nine cases.

As a result, Giesler ended up relying on Dr. Chauncy Leake of UC Davis, who graded each suspicious test against a rating system based on the amount of caffeine required to establish stimulation. Although Dr. Leake’s levels were not universally accepted, Giesler wanted to bring the case to an end. Five tests, including the one from Threewitt’s horse, were held to be at least borderline positive.

The owners were let off the hook, and the five trainers each received 60-day suspensions that amounted to no more than a face-saving sham. The “suspended” trainers were allowed to supervise their horses without interruption; only their names were removed whenever their horses raced.

Events of the past two years--involving such owners and trainers as Wayne Lukas, Lazaro Barrera, the late Gene Klein, Louis Wolfson, Roger Stein and more recently John Russell--have proven that little has changed in the 50 years since the Giesler follies. Caffeine has been switched to cocaine, but the rest of the song remains the same.

Legal rights continue to lag far behind technological advances in equine drug testing. Trainers still are held responsible for acts out of their control. Commissioners argue among themselves, while state officials plead poverty and turn the game over to the lowest bidder.

And the fans sit in the stands and wonder, “Who’s really running the show?”