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Turner was out on the track, scouting for his Derby mount And after watching old slowpoke me lope past him, he decided to take die mount on the Derby favorite, The Rival
Good call, Wink. Pretty tricky way to keep us together. Worked like a charm.
Wink was a great man as well as kind. He was just 20 years old when we won the Derby. Racism and brutality by the new white jockeys entering the game shouldered him out of Kentucky soon after our big day.
He went overseas and rode for the Czar of Russia for years and ended up a trainer in France until World War II forced him out for a time, along with many other French. The 1940s were a frightening time, even for us horses, even from our safe perch up here.
In 1961 Wink was invited back to Kentucky to attend the very same trainer’s dinner that Canonero’s folks weren’t All was fine until Wink was told that he and his lovely daughter couldn’t use the front door of the hotel. Something about “the help” using the other entrance. This, too, was such a hard time for us horses to understand human behavior.
Never one to lose his cool on
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