PREAKNESS STAKES

Little Current far from Triple crowd
Horse racing: In 1974, the Preakness and Belmont winner rallied from far back. 
Today, the oldest living winner of a Triple Crown race lives a life of leisure 
off racing's beaten path.
By Tom Keyser
Sun Staff

May 14, 2001

MONROE, Wash. - Regal in bearing and regally bred, a late-flying dynamo named 
Little Current reigned over the Preakness and Belmont in 1974.

He might have been forever revered among Triple Crown winners of that decade - 
linked with Secretariat, Seattle Slew and Affirmed - had it not been for a fluky 
field in the 1974 Kentucky Derby.

The centennial edition had attracted 23 horses, the most in Derby history. After 
finishing a frustrating fifth in that impenetrable crowd, Little Current won the 
second and third legs of the Triple Crown with such ease that racing changed its 
rules. Because an apparently deserving Triple Crown winner had been denied, 
Churchill Downs, site of the Derby, limited the field of its glamour race to 20.

"If I'd gotten any break at all, I could have won the race," says Bobby Ussery, 
the jockey who rode Little Current in the Derby. "He was good enough to win the 
Triple Crown - with a break."

Now 30, Little Current is the oldest living winner of a Triple Crown race. Next 
is Seattle Slew, 27, the oldest living winner of the Triple Crown.

Seattle Slew resides at Three Chimneys Farm in the heart of Kentucky bluegrass 
country. About 10,000 people visit Three Chimneys every year, nearly all asking 
to see Seattle Slew.

By contrast, Little Current lives northeast of Seattle, so far off racing's 
beaten path that fewer than a dozen people each year go out of their way to see 
him. Here in his remote paddock, Little Current remains a proud and personable 
horse, the one who in 1974 electrified thousands with his dramatic bursts of 
closing speed.

Ussery, 65, retired and living in Florida, foresaw what likely would be Little 
Current's greatest obstacle in the Kentucky Derby. The colt's style was to break 
slowly, lag behind the field and then shift into overdrive and pass horses as if 
they were stuck in mud.

For the 100th Kentucky Derby, 23 horses and 163,628 patrons - both records that 
still stand - descended upon Churchill Downs. And sure enough, when the starting 
gate opened, Little Current broke last.

Twenty-two horses raced in front of him. The traffic was thick. Ussery hoped the 
field would spread out. He hoped to find seams through which he could thread 
Little Current.

"I never got the chance to make my move with him," Ussery says. "I just couldn't 
get him going. Every time I started to get him in full stride, I had to wait for 
an opening. I certainly couldn't fly over anybody. There was just nowhere to put 
him that day."

Around the final turn, astride an eager horse unable to break through, Ussery 
jerked Little Current to the outside. He went practically to the middle of the 
track. Clear, Little Current charged down the homestretch. He passed a dozen. He 
would have passed four more, but he ran out of ground.

Little Current crossed the finish line fifth, 6 1/2 lengths behind the winner, 
Cannonade.

For the Preakness, Little Current's trainer changed jockeys. Lou Rondinello 
chose Miguel Rivera to ride the horse in the field of 13. Little Current beat 
just one horse out of the gate, and that was Buck's Bid, who had stumbled and 
dropped his jockey. Little Current was last again.

This time, however, when Rivera searched for an opening in the homestretch, a 
crack appeared along the rail. Little Current barreled through like a bully and 
surged home like a sprinter. He won by seven lengths. Cannonade, the Derby 
winner, finished third.

Little Current matched Nashua (1955) for the third-fastest Preakness (1 minute, 
54 3/5 seconds) at the time, behind Canonero II in 1971 and Secretariat in 1973.

The '74 Derby and Preakness winners met again in the Belmont. And again, Little 
Current with Rivera prevailed by seven lengths, dropping far back in the nine-
horse field and roaring wide for the victory. Cannonade again was third.

The commanding triumph clinched divisional honors for Little Current. At the end 
of the year, he was named champion 3-year-old colt or gelding.

A second career 

The Belmont was his last victory. After a two-month break and two narrow losses 
- one by a nose, one by a head - he raced on soggy turf at Belmont Park. He 
finished sixth, 19 lengths behind, and emerged from the race with a chipped bone 
in his right front ankle. He was retired.

After 15 races on dirt, Little Current competed that last time on grass because 
his owner and breeder, John W. Galbreath, wanted to see how the colt took to 
turf. He had hoped to fly Little Current to Paris for the Prix de l'Arc de 
Triomphe, one of the world's great races. Instead, Little Current returned to 
Kentucky to Darby Dan farm, his birthplace, to begin a career as a stallion.

Galbreath, who owned the Pittsburgh Pirates and Hialeah Park racetrack, had 
built Darby Dan into a pre-eminent breeding farm in part by leasing stallions 
from Europe. One, Sea-Bird, was regarded as Europe's best racehorse of the 20th 
century. Sea-Bird sired Little Current.

So it was with great fanfare that Little Current went to stud. Galbreath had 
syndicated him for $4 million, placing him eighth on the list of most expensive 
syndicated stallions at that time. Although Little Current produced stakes 
winners, he failed to match in the breeding shed his prowess on the racetrack.

The highlight of his sojourn as a stallion was a visit from Queen Elizabeth in 
the mid-1980s during a tour of Kentucky farms. She had followed the career of 
Sea-Bird two decades before and had bred one or two of her mares to Little 
Current.

"He was a grand horse. He should have been a Triple Crown winner," says 
Galbreath's grandson, John Phillips, managing partner of Darby Dan. "Hall of 
Fame status and greater glory were denied him by the vagaries of fate."

In 1988, Doug Arnold bought Little Current, stood him at Arnold Farms in 
Kentucky for four seasons, and then sold him to a breeder in Louisiana. There, 
Little Current's stud fee was a paltry $1,500.

He was largely forgotten - but not by Mark Hansen. Now 46, Hansen was 19 in 
Little Current's heyday. He watched the fiery finishes on television and studied 
photos in racing magazines. The hard-luck horse became an equine hero.

"I was in awe when I first saw him," says Hansen, who visited Little Current in 
1990 at Arnold Farms. "I had that feeling you get when you're around a great 
animal. He just had a presence about him. Even then, it seemed that he had so 
much personality."

Even then, Hansen dreamed about someday owning Little Current.

Hansen grew up around horses. His father raced quarter horses and thoroughbreds 
off their farm in Oregon. Hansen galloped them. He worked as a hot walker and 
groom for Hall of Fame trainer Woody Stephens. Hansen became a veterinarian, 
specializing in cattle. He married a veterinarian, specializing in horses. Ann 
and Mark Hansen settled in Monroe, Wash.

Mark Hansen had become friends with Arnold, Little Current's second owner, who 
helped the couple obtain the horse at the end of his stud career in Louisiana.

That was in 1995. Little Current was 24.

Mark Hansen declines to say how much they paid for Little Current. But he says 
he'll never forget the day Little Current walked off the horse van onto their 
farm.

"He took two steps and stopped," he says. "He looked around as if to say, 'This 
is my place now. I'm the boss.' He's always been the boss."

The Hansens bred Little Current to a few mares. But in 1998 they pensioned him. 
Now, he resides in a large stall in a small barn next to the vets' clinic. He 
spends part of nearly every day in a paddock out front.

Visitor from Maryland 

Only about 10 people a year come from out of state to visit Little Current. One 
is Kevin Grace, who works for the Maryland Racing Commission in its licensing 
offices at Pimlico and Laurel Park.

Grace is Little Current's No. 1 fan, and he is leading a campaign for Little 
Current's election into racing's Hall of Fame. Working against Little Current is 
his overall record of four victories in 16 starts, even if two of the four were 
Triple Crown races.

"Unfortunately, it looks as if Pete Rose will be in the Hall of Fame before 
Little Current will," Grace says.

The Hansens let Grace lead the campaigning. They prefer talking about Little 
Current as if he were their pet.

"He is like Mr. Ed," Mark Hansen says. "He looks you right in the eye. He makes 
an impression on you. He's always interacting, always communicating. For his 
entertainment, he'll try to aggravate you."

Little Current will stand in the part of the stall Mark Hansen is trying to 
clean. The horse will block the way to the muck bucket.

The Hansens have developed a special feed for Little Current. They support his 
feet with protective shoes. Ann Hansen monitors his health. She says he has a 
severe heart murmur.

"If he's fortunate, that will be the cause of his demise," she says. "If his 
heart just gives out, that would be the nicest way for him to die."

When the time comes, the Hansens plan to bury Little Current in Kentucky at 
Arnold's farm, now called Buck Pond Farm. Arnold says he will erect a monument.

But for the time being, the horse thrives in the Northwest. His coat shines. His 
back sways only slightly. He jogs along the fence, but not for long. His joints 
ache.

Every now and then, Mark Hansen slips a tape into a VCR outside Little Current's 
stall. Races appear on a TV screen. In some, the Hansens' horses run at local 
tracks. But in others, the images are from long ago, as Little Current wins the 
Preakness and the Belmont.

The old chestnut champion darts to the front of his stall. With pricked ears and 
penetrating eyes, he watches his moments of glory as they unfold once more. 
Copyright (c) 2001, The Baltimore Sun