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Nitwit Champion. Such thoroughness, practiced more in Europe than in the U.S., aims to develop disciplined horses that can adjust to race-track life. But there was one notable exception, a nitwit named Whirlaway, in the 1939 yearling crop.
Ben Jones recognized Whirlaway as a potentially great horse—even though he was foolish and eccentric off the race track, and completely crazy on it. It took three men to put a saddle on him. In the paddock the horse shook like an aspen. When he went into a turn during a race, no amount of strong-arming by a jockey could keep him from going wide.
Bull-headed Ben rolled up his sleeves. Month after month, he led Whirlaway around like a puppy dog, let him inspect the inside rail, sniff the starting gate, look over the stands. Now & then, Ben would stop to let the horse nibble at some grass. Whirlaway visited the paddock so often that it began to seem like a second home. Gradually the addled horse seemed to realize that there was nothing about a race track that was going to hurt him.
Before the 1941 Derby, Ben told Jockey Eddie Arcaro to "take it slow around the far turn. This horse can be last at the head stretch and win for you." Actually, Whirlaway and Arcaro were fourth heading into the stretch, but they put on a breathtaking charge and won by eight lengths.
Before he was through, Whirlaway won $561,161 in purses and became the world's leading money-winner. "I couldn't stand a horse like Whirlaway now," says Ben, "he'd take too much out of me."
Family Stand-Off. Not long after Whirlaway was retired to stud, in 1943, Ben himself began to talk about retiring. Diabetes and the strain of 40 hectic years on the track was beginning to tell.
But before he got around to quitting, Pensive won the 1944 Kentucky Derby for him (at a $16.20 mutuel). That summer, Pensive bowed a tendon and was retired to stud. (He died last week.) By then Ben was busy with a Calumet filly named Twilight Tear, who struck a stride which finally carried her to 1944's Horse-of-the-Year title.
Next season it was Armed. So small as a two-year-old that he was gelded "to make him grow some," Armed didn't see much of the race track until he was four. Then he began to take his bows. Still racing, Armed has won more money ($782,175) than any other gelding ever did.
Two years later, Ben Jones got himself promoted to the post of "head trainer and manager of the Calumet Farm Training Stable," and turned the heavy chores over to Jimmy. Since then the stable has often raced in two divisions, with horses and trainers interchangeable. No matter who tightens the saddle girths, the horses keep on winning. Financially, it is a family stand-off with each of the Joneses getting a $12,000-a-year salary plus 5% of all purses won by Calumet (or some $160,000 apiece in the last two years).
Pounds v. Dollars. On matters of policy, Ben does the talking. One of his principal matters of policy is weight—and that mainly concerns Citation and Coaltown. Weight will stop any horse from winning if the handicappers put enough of it on his back, and Ben Jones is not in the business of losing races.