A horse that stirred the human soul

When I was a horse-crazy girl in Orange County in the 1960s, my parents would drive my sister and me to the still-quaint Knott’s Berry Farm. We’d sit cross-legged on the sunbaked asphalt and watch the daily performance of Serrano, the resident trick horse. The sorrel could count, answer simple questions with a nod or a shake of his head and bow to his appreciative audience. It wasn’t until I’d spent years training and competing show horses that I realized Serrano was responding to imperceptible cues from his handler. My adoration for Serrano and his superior intellect became a profound appreciation for the communicative bond between horse and handler.

And so I was drawn to “Beautiful Jim Key: The Lost History of a Horse and a Man Who Changed the World” by bestselling author Mim Eichler Rivas (coauthor of “Finding Fish,” the memoir on which the film “Antwone Fisher” was based). In her admirably researched text, Rivas contends that William Key, a former slave, Civil War veteran, self-taught veterinarian and creator of patent medicines, helped spark the animal rights movement in the early 1900s with his “educated horse,” Jim Key.

It was a time when horses still were considered beasts of burden and a primary means of transportation. At expositions and fairs across America, the bay horse, with nary a visible prompt from Key, made correct change (using his very own National cash register, customized with leather pull tabs), spelled common names, performed basic math problems and sorted mail. Gradually, a horse was perceived as an animal possessed of far more than just brawn. The Tennessee trainer and his horse became ambassadors for the nascent American Humane Assn.

“The shift in public sentiment had begun,” Rivas writes. “The movement had broken out of elite drawing rooms and had arrived at Main Street, thanks in large part to Jim Key; he had also broadened the focus of animal welfare to include not only protecting animals from cruel treatment but also celebrating the connection between humans and nonhumans through acts of kindness. The notion that animals could think, reason, and feel was no longer so radical.”

The horse, born with crooked legs and a weak constitution, was nursed to health by Key, who named him Jim (after a bowlegged ne’er-do-well wandering around the stables in Bedford County, Tenn.) and added his own surname. Eventually, Key began to notice Jim’s proclivity for opening doors, rummaging through personal property and making a nuisance of himself. The colt also had a penchant for sweets, most notably slices of apple and lumps of sugar. With such lures, Jim was soon taught tricks far beyond those performed by the usual sideshow animal acts of the time. He became a willing colleague whenever Key marketed his home-brewed “Keystone” liniment and tonic; the talented horse could act both colicky and lame, then, when dosed with the elixir, demonstrate robust health.

In 1906, the Minneapolis Journal hailed Jim Key as the “highest priced, most educated and most talked about horse in the world.” Jim was a box-office star at state fairs, but he also had become a cult hero whose abilities had taken on a human, even superhuman, quality.

Yet Rivas never anthropomorphizes Jim Key. He is always portrayed as a horse, though one blessed with intelligence that seemed to go beyond horse sense. It is William Key who is the most memorable character. For despite the hyperbolic press kits created by his partner, the Barnumesque Albert Rogers, “Doc” Key remained a simple, honest man who embodied the best qualities of a true horseman and horse lover.

“In the Doc’s view, the only barrier between humans and nonhumans was this language gap, one that he and Jim had bridged together,” Rivas writes. “Doc Key could understand and communicate in Jim’s language -- which is what the term horse whisperer had come to mean -- while the [horse] could understand and communicate in his teacher’s language.”

Rivas does wander off the bridle path. Occasionally, just as her narrative breaks into full gallop, she detours down another trail to provide background on what are, ultimately, minor supporting characters. Fortunately, she soon regains her stride.

Comparisons to Laura Hillenbrand’s “Seabiscuit” are inevitable. But “Beautiful Jim Key” is distinctly its own animal. And the horse here is not a Thoroughbred racehorse but a mix of Arabian and Hambletonian. Appropriately, Rivas’ pace is slower. And while Seabiscuit helped reignite the American spirit, Jim Key, in his own beautiful way, whispered to Americans’ hearts and awakened their soul.

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Cindy Hale, a freelance journalist who writes on equestrian topics, is the author of “A Passion for Horses” and “Riding for the Blue: A Celebration of Horse Shows.”