The Winningest

A useful sprinter named Big Rush romped off with the fifth race at California's Del Mar race track one day last week and paid $15.70 for $2. Even those outdoor investors who had backed the wrong horse cheered the result. For Johnny Longden, the wrinkled little jock on board the winner, had just won his 4,8705th race and thus tied Sir Gordon Richards' alltime record for riding race winning thoroughbreds. Less than two hours later, Johnny won again. He picked up a big horse named Arrogate and heaved him under the wire to win the day's feature by a dirty nose. Now Grandpa Longden, 46 (horsemen with long memories swear he is 50), is the winningest jockey in the world.

Out of the Gate. The durable refugee from Canadian coal mines has been a long time on the road to success, and he was slow getting out of the starting gate. Born in England, he was brought to northwestern Canada by his parents when he was a youngster. He went to work as a "grease pig," leading the slow-moving donkeys hauling their loads of coal. Any job under the sun would have been better, and young Johnny made a long reach for light and air. At 15, he began to pick up small change riding "Roman" style at the "bull rings" around Calgary. Steering two mounts from a standing position, one foot on the back of each, Johnny demonstrated his innate skill at horsemanship.

Strangely, when he switched to a jockey's saddle Johnny found the going tougher. In his first year (1927) he won one out of 16 starts, earned all of $980. As it always is, advice was available from every quarter, and it all added up to one word: quit. But Johnny stuck around. When other jocks were living it up, he worked around the barns, walked hots, rode as an exercise boy. He learned about horses and, inevitably, he began to win.

Modest Millionaire. As he moved toward the top, Johnny found the going not one bit easier. In the rough days before the film patrol kept jockeys civilized he took his share of spills. Over the years, in one way or another, he broke both legs, smashed a shoulder, fractured his spine, suffered a brain concussion and broke a foot. Somehow he also managed to develop a superb sense of timing. He learned how to break from the gate a stride on top, how to rate his horse when he was running in front. If he looked awkward in the saddle his knowing hands could still wring that extra effort out of his mount, that marginal shading of speed that wins horse races.

Wherever he rode--and he rode all over the world--Johnny earned a reputation as an honest jock who always gave his horse a good ride. He was up on Count Fleet when that great runner took the Kentucky Derby in 1943; he was piloting Noor when that Irish-bred fighter got his nose in front of Citation to win the San Juan Capistrano Handicap. Today he owns a modest California mansion-- modest, that is, for a millionaire jockey--for a time he had a 500-acre Nevada ranch and he followed the ponies around the circuit in his own plane. It took Johnny 30 years to ride to this affluent estate, and he is still a long way from hanging up his boots. By week's end he had won ten more, for a total of 4,881. For as long as he feels like riding, horsemen will forgive him his minor transgressions--he breeds a few standardbreds and sneaks away from the track every so often to drive those wagon horses at night.

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