The troubled first decade of the 1900s ended cataclysmically for America's Thoroughbred industry. Antiwagering laws from coast to coast caused the industry to implode, closing racetracks, dispersing studs, and sending thousands of the country's finest Thoroughbreds abroad to the only viable markets left to them.

In the years that followed, American racing would embark on a thrill ride of epic proportions, one that would carry it from the lowest of lows to unprecedented heights. From a period of near financial ruin, the industry segued into one that produced the first filly Kentucky Derby winner, the first $200,000 earner, and the first mile faster than 1:35. The period from 1911 to 1920 began in tatters and ended with Man o' War.

Racing lost and found

Passage in 1908 of the Hart-Agnew bill did not ring the death knell of New York racing. Rather, the near-fatal stroke came from a nasty addendum passed three years later.

Legal loopholes allowed the sport to scrape by through 1909 and 1910 with a discreet form of oral betting, although city police continued to patrol the tracks, roughing up and occasionally arresting patrons on gambling charges.

While this put a distinct chill on racing's pleasures, it did not satisfy the moral crusaders, who in 1911 crafted an even more potent pair of laws. One restricted all forms of betting; the other mandated that a racetrack director would face criminal charges if anyone were caught wagering on track grounds.

Industry leaders such as August Belmont, John Sanford, and Harry Payne Whitney would willingly support racing with their time, energy, and money, but they drew the line at imprisonment. Hence, in 1911 the gates of the great racetracks slammed shut.

When Turf writer O'Neill Sevier predicted a quarter-century recovery period, he overlooked two important parts of the equation: the historic resilience of a popular pastime (racing), and American outrage at being denied a cherished personal freedom (wagering). (Reformers were also then targeting theater, Sunday sporting events, and alcohol consumption.)

As indignation swelled, a group of wealthy horsemen began stockpiling a fund with which to hold future race meets. The future came quickly. Although the Agnew-Hart bill moldered on the books until 1934, the liability law was apparently dropped or softened by May 30, 1913. That afternoon, the Belmont Park band struck up "Auld Lang Syne" as Thoroughbreds were led to post in New York for the first time since 1910.

Jersey Act

The impact of that brief period was far-reaching. With earning capabilities at an all-time low and bloodstock virtually worthless, American breeders sent more than 1,500 horses overseas between 1908 and 1913, among them at least 24 past, present, or future United States champions-including Artful, Tanya, Colin, Henry of Navarre, Sir Martin, Maskette, Hermis, Novelty, Peter Pan, Irish Lad, Ballot. Some eventually came back, but many did not. Leading sires *Rock Sand and *Meddler, also part of the exodus, were lost forever to American breeding.

An inevitable backlash occurred as foreign countries saw their bloodstock markets threatened. The British, who were especially appalled by the equine flood reaching their shores, suddenly concluded that American pedigrees were not what they ought to be and began aggressively campaigning against the American imports.

This process culminated in 1913 with the Jersey Act, a piece of work every bit as shameful as Agnew-Hart. Instead of the previous requirement of eight crosses of genetic purity, admission to the General Stud Book now demanded that a horse trace back in all lines to foundation stock recorded in its earliest volumes.

This law effectively excluded horses of old American lineage, since many early records had been lost in the chaos of a bloody revolution and bitter civil war. Never mind that the breed had recovered to produce runners capable of beating any man's horse on any racetrack, anywhere. As of 1913, the American Thoroughbred was formally mongrelized in the eyes of the world.

World at war

The pendulum soon swung the other way. The opening gunshots of World War I in 1914 closely followed racing's return in New York, producing a situation of ironic symmetry. American racing was on the mend but lacked enough native stock to support it. England's sport was sharply curtailed by war, but there were plenty of Thoroughbreds around.

The American bloodstock industry, formerly a desperate exporter, overnight became an energetic importer, much to its everlasting advantage. Ironically, the Jersey Act only hurt the British. Long after war's end in 1918, American horsemen continued to replenish their studs with the best English blood that money could buy, but British breeders could not reciprocate-because until 1949 American horses were unworthy of their Stud Book.

On the racetrack, quality proved a two-way street. American-breds had won some of Europe's big races a half-decade earlier, but between 1916-'20, numerous English and French-breds were performing at the apex of U.S. racing, including champions *Short Grass, *Sun Briar, *Hourless, *Omar Khayyam, *Johren, *Sunbonnet, *Enfilade, and *Constancy, plus classic winner *War Cloud, and future influential sire *Chicle.

Although World War I enabled American breeders to acquire much-needed bloodstock at reasonable prices, purses remained small by pre-Agnew-Hart standards. In 1916, Friar Rock banked just $11,150 for winning the Belmont Stakes and Brooklyn and Suburban Handicaps, which in 1908 had been worth $62,265 to the winners. Of the 70 leading American earners through 1920, only three had run primarily between 1911 and 1920; 29 had campaigned in the previous decade and 38 in the 1800s.

While it did not improve American purses, the war affected the nation's racing in other tangible ways, both good and bad. Churchill Downs grew potatoes in its infield for allied troops; racetrack-sponsored Liberty Bond sales netted millions; and "gift" horses were auctioned to benefit the Red Cross.

In April 1917-the very month that the U.S. entered the war-Belmont Park suffered two devastating fires, one of which killed 26 horses. The fires were blamed on German sympathizers, who erroneously believed the track would be used for troop mobilization. Later that fall, a ship carrying a consignment of English bloodstock to America was torpedoed off the Irish coast. Among the horses lost in the icy Atlantic was a classic-placed son of Polymelus, for whom A. B. Hancock Sr. had high hopes.

Great geldings, fantastic fillies

Even in the shadow of war, the decade was memorable for its outstanding runners, including future Racing Hall of Fame geldings Roamer, Old Rosebud, and Exterminator. In 1918, Roamer became the first ever to crack the mythical 1:35 mile, while Old Rosebud's 2:03 2/5 Kentucky Derby record of 1914 endured for 17 seasons. Exterminator proved victorious 19 times under weights of 130-138 pounds. Together they won 129 races and set or equaled 29 records from 5-to-18 furlongs at 14 different racetracks.

Arguably, the most spectacular individual performance of the era did not belong to any of the above but to a now-forgotten gelding named Iron Mask. It happened on March 8, 1914, at Mexico's Juarez racetrack, across the border from El Paso, Texas. The grandson of Domino carried 150 pounds that day and sped 5 1/2 furlongs in 1:03 2/5, setting an American record that would last for 30 years.

Iron Mask's female counterpart was Pan Zareta, also a magnificent weight carrier who took a back seat to no male in the realm of blazing speed. Between 1912 and 1918, the "gangly mare with the chestnut hair" inspired poetry and passion as she won more races (76) under more weight (up to 146 pounds) than any mare that ever lived. Ironically, neither Iron Mask nor Pan Zareta survived the decade. The