Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: SUNDAY, September 18, 1994 TAG: 9409200056
SECTION: VIRGINIA PAGE: VIRGINIA EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: By ALEC KLEIN STAFF WRITER
DATELINE: DOSWELL LENGTH: Long
Only a garden spider stands sentry over the deserted stall of perhaps the greatest racehorse ever.
Eight years of neglect have left a fallen roof and abandoned hornets' nests in the birthplace of a Virginia chestnut named Secretariat. But now, Meadow Farm is undergoing a renaissance.
With it comes the hope of a rebirth in Virginia horse breeding, just weeks before the state Racing Commission chooses from among five applicants to build the Old Dominion's first racetrack.
Under restoration, the farm is more than a harbinger of things to come. It is a reminder that Virginia once was the cradle of American thoroughbred racing, the avocation of breeders George Washington and Thomas Jefferson.
Now it falls to the likes of Ross A. Sternheimer, 34, the Meadow's owner since 1992, who admits he knows more about selling Nike sneakers than foaling stakes champions.
"I know enough to get me in trouble," he said.
Sternheimer belongs to another legacy, that of the A&N family chain of athletic-wear stores scattered throughout Virginia. He is a businessman who last saddled a horse when he was about 5 years old.
"Do I look like I ride horses?" he said of his office-bred stoutness. "I'm a city guy."
Suddenly, though, Sternheimer also is the keeper of a piece of history. A private man, he finds himself warding off curiosity-seekers who wander onto his 400-acre farm just north of Richmond to get a glimpse of the superhorse's ghost.
"It's just my home," he said, "I'm not quite sure how to handle it."
One way is to bring back the farm's idyllic days of breeding and training thoroughbreds. Which is what Sternheimer plans to do - in moderation.
The would-be breeder for the sport of kings already has covered more than 10 miles of fences with 10,000 gallons of white paint and built a Georgian-style home of more than 20,000 square feet with bowling-alley-sized rooms.
But nothing - except a highway historical marker - remains of Secretariat, whose face graced the covers of Time, Newsweek and Sports Illustrated in a single week more than 20 years ago.
The arrival of a new generation of thoroughbreds, both at Meadow Farm and across the state, awaits the day when Virginia opens its first racetrack, in Portsmouth, Virginia Beach, New Kent County or Prince William County.
"That's what it's all hinging on," said Deborah S. Norden, executive director of the Virginia Thoroughbred Association.
Expectations of a breeding boom come from points west:
Before horse racing arrived in Minnesota in 1985, the state had six thoroughbred farms. Four years later, there were 300. In California, the breeding industry generates an estimated $123 million in annual revenue.
"I'd like to be a real-estate agent in the first few years" after a track is built, said Donald R. Price, executive secretary of the Virginia Racing Commission, "because they're going to sell a lot of land and a lot of farms."
A horse track breeds horse farms, so much so that Secretariat left trackless Virginia for racing-rich Kentucky to stand stud.
With him went hundreds of fan letters sent daily in his name and the echoes of his 31-length victory at Belmont Park, the race announcer bellowing in disbelief: "He's moving like a tremendous machine. ... He's out there all alone!"
With a Virginia track, breeders will have an incentive to raise their future Secretariats here. One penny of every dollar wagered on Virginia races will go toward boosting prize money and developing races for horses foaled in-state.
The change could add up, restoring Virginia's place among the leading breeding states. In 1983, a decade after Secretariat electrified the world with record-shattering races, Virginia fell out of the top 10; the state dropped to 13th, behind Pennsylvania, in 1992, the last year for which figures are available.
Secretariat's departure only presaged a nationwide decline in foals caused by tax-law changes, gun-shy high-bidders and struggling racetracks.
At the peak in 1986, there were 51,293 thoroughbreds born nationwide. Seven years later, there were 35,279 foals. Virginia's share fell even more precipitously over that time, from 1,176 to 592.
But beyond the numbers, Virginia lost something more personal when Secretariat was shipped to Kentucky pastures. In the early 1970s, he was a hero who distracted the nation from Watergate and Vietnam.
"He really wasn't my horse," said Helen "Penny" Chenery, Secretariat's owner, from her home in Lexington, Ky. "I was just the custodian of a great horse who happened to be born on our farm."
It wasn't just Secretariat's flawless physique, nor his heart - examined after his 1989 death and found to be an enormous pumping machine. No, this horse also was a ham, posing for the camera and showing off on the track.
Few bet against the thunderous horse, and for good reason - Secretariat won 14 of 21 starts. Those who dared usually lost, like Joseph A. DeFrancis, president of the Maryland Jockey Club, who bet against the horse on each leg of the 1973 Triple Crown.
There was something magical about Secretariat that even newspaper reporters couldn't explain.
"By sight, I could tell which one was Secretariat, and I don't have a keen eye for horses," said former wire stringer Christopher N. Sherf, executive vice president of the Thoroughbred Racing Associations of North America. "It sounds corny, but he just had a majestic look about him. Here were all these horses, and then Pegasus reincarnated."
Even at birth, Secretariat exuded greatness, overshadowing a humble stall that now sits barren near an aging gas pump and an idle billy goat.
"Fancy barns don't make them run any faster," said Howard Gentry, the retired Meadow Farm manager who delivered Secretariat. "It was 10 past midnight, the 30th day of March, 1970. I told the night watchman that he'd be the best horse we'd ever raise."
by CNB