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"America's Great Distance Horsemen" By Fredie Steve Harris Frank T. Hopkins entered more than 400 long distance races, and lost only one. Endurance racing in 19th century America like rodeo today was a sport of contradiction. In the name of "sport," some men rode their horses to death, promoting the formation of humane societies. No such rider was Frank Hopkins: he was a model horseman. His horses not only finished far ahead of competitors but reached the finish line heavier than they weighed at starting time.
Such riders and their horses did not labor out in the wilderness. They competed before thousands of enthusiastic spectators gathered along public roads or at race courses. Indeed, the largest turf crowd in California up to 1857 gathered at San Francisco's Union Course to watch a 30-mile trotting match between Rattler and General Taylor. The purse was $4,000 and General Taylor won it, one hour, 47 minutes, and 59 seconds. Inevitably, cruelty accompanied such competitive endurance racing. Some riders regarded their horses as nothing more than machinery—tools to be used or abused as needed. Many of these horses were expensive and highly bred. Such cold-blooded attitudes by some endurance riders caused a veterinary surgeon to complain in this manner in 1857. "Little do these hard drivers, as they are called, and who glory in the appellation, think of the sufferings of the noble animals that carry them…we are induced to speak thus freely, having fresh in our memory…the dying sobs and groans of as noble an animal as ever trod the earth, the blood flowing from the nostrils and mouth of the fallen and heart broken animal. What a spectacle to be coupled with pleasure and exultation! These exhibitions cannot be too severely reprobated; they have no kin to the straight forward honest sporting; they are only advantageous to heartless, selfish, cruel men." Dead race horses laying in a ditch or on a track were just the thing to fire up America's fledgling humane societies. In fact, the Massachusetts Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals was founded in 1868 as the result of a 40-mile $1,000 trotting match. In this race, both horses, Ivanhoe and Empire State, were driven to death. Human officers began to monitor endurance racing along with cocking, ratting, baiting, and other disagreeable pastimes. They informed the public of abuses and berated public officials who ignored the problems, even offering rewards to anyone who could suggest methods of discouraging such racing. One highly publicized confrontation between endurance racers and humane groups centered on a 1,000-mile "cowboy" race which was scheduled to begin in June 1893 at Chadron, Nebraska. It was to end on the grounds of Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show in Chicago. For Western-bred stock only, this race was viewed by its opponents as an outrage, an act of barbarism. Illinois Governor John Altgeld issued an official proclamation to law officers, instructing them to enforce all relevant state humane laws. He concluded by saying "...We will welcome the so-called "cowboys" into our state and bid them come in all their glory and have a thoroughly enjoyable time while among us. But we cannot permit the laws of Illinois to be trampled under foot as a matter of sport." The proposed race became so controversial that many observers believed it might not be run at all. But the race was saved when organizers and the humane groups struck a compromise. Both groups agreed to periodic examinations of the horses along the way, with a final inspection at the finish line. The race began on June 13 to the cheers of a crowd estimated at 3,000 people. Horses and riders pulled into Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show grounds more than 13 days later. Some of the riders were hurting, but humane officers quickly acknowledged that the horses were in good condition. Buffalo Bill agreed, commenting that, "The horses are in splendid condition. I was not surprised at that either, for it is just as I said a few days ago—cowboys know that the horse is their best friend and that its best endeavors are brought out by kindness and care." Buffalo Bill was a man of many faults, but poor horsemanship was not among them. He knew horses and he knew horsemen. His Wild West Show, and later, his Congress of Rough Riders of the World, included some of the absolute best riders from several continents. One of them was a Westerner named Frank T. Hopkins, a man whose performance greatly influenced early-day endurance racing. Hopkins may have been the best endurance rider of the late 19th century. If all endurance riders had been his equal, the humane societies would have had little work to do. Author Charles B. Roth, who interviewed Hopkins after he retired from riding, regarded him as the supreme rider. "Look at his record," Roth wrote in the U.S. Remount Association journal in 1936. "In over 400 long distance races Hopkins was beaten but once, and then by foul. He finished first but was disqualified. These races varied in length from 50 to 3,000 miles. Three times he won the title of Worlds Greatest Horseman, in competition with picked riders from the cavalry of the world. Other horsemanship prizes too numerous to mention he also won." Hopkins came by these accomplishments naturally enough. He was born in Wyoming, when the West was still a bit wild. He got saddle-wise as a teenage dispatch rider for the Army during the Indian wars. He later worked as a buffalo runner for Buffalo Jones the famous rancher and conservationist promoter. He knew the Western land and he had seen with his own eyes the tirelessness of the Indian horses would always favor Mustang horses. One such horse was named Joe. This Joe was an Indian horse with black mane and tail, and weighing about 800 pounds. He had been caught or perhaps bought in Wyoming by Buffalo Jones. Jones' horse breakers were unable to break the horse of the wildness, so he was given to Hopkins. In two months of careful handling, he was transformed into a well-behaved utterly tireless buffalo runner. Ultimately, he became an utterly tireless endurance horse. Joe proved himself in l886 when Buffalo Jones persuaded Hopkins to enter a race sponsored by Cameo wresting and even oyster shucking. In this case, the prize was $3,000 to the winner of a race from Galveston, Texas to Rutland, Vermont-- Distance l, 799 miles. Hopkins was one of 56 riders who came to the Galveston starting line September 6. There were all kinds of riders present, including cowboys, ex-cavalrymen, horse trainers, even city horsemen. Hopkins and Joe were left behind early in the race. This did not disturb Hopkins at all—he knew how important it was to ease gradually into such a pushing contest. The course wound in circles along various highways and country roads, through towns and cities, across flatlands and over high country. Racers were regulated along the way by a system of punch cards verified by judges stationed along the route. Judges were responsible for making certain that each rider rode only one horse, that no one rode more than 10 hours out of each 24 hours, and that no one took a shortcut! Hopkins pulled into Rutland after 31 days on the road. He and Joe had traveled l,799 miles at an average rate of nearly 60 miles per day. The second-place finisher did not show up for two weeks. This victory brought Hopkins to the attention of Buffalo Bill, who soon signed him as a rider for the Wild West Show. In the year 1890, through his show contacts, Hopkins was entered in a contest as remote from the American West as the moon. Starting point was the British possession of Aden, at the mouth of the Red Sea. More than 100 contestants were all mounted on Arabian horses. In contrast, Hopkins rode Hidalgo, a 950-pound, 8-year-old Paint which he regarded as the best endurance horse that ever carried a rider. This was one of five foals Hopkins had bred, mothered by a 700-pound Sioux mare named White-y. The famous endurance rider had purchased the mare on the Pine Ridge Reservation for three dollars. Hidalgo carried Hopkins over 3,000 miles of extremely punishing terrain, with little water and scant forage. Supplement feed was supplied by camel caravans along the route. The gutsy paint hit the finish in 68 days. He came in about 33 hours ahead of the second-place finisher. Such remarkable successes could only have come to a true horseman. Hopkins believed that the winning endurance racer had to have good judgment in selecting his horses and patience in riding the race. He studied his horses carefully, looking for desirable points of conformation and even traits of character and temperament. He told Charles B. Roth what kind of horse was best suited to the long haul: " I always rode stallions on my long races, I liked them better than mares or geldings because they have more sense. And in a distance horse that is the first requirement—sense. " A flighty, high-strung horse is simply not in the picture. He can't stand the grind of training that always goes before the race. I never saw a high-strung horse last longer than a week in any distance race. They burn themselves up... "The horses I rode were always level-headed. Some horsemen would call them lazy. They were. I had to make them work. I needed a horse with that kind of disposition; a horse that would be content to walk all day unless I called on him to shake it up; a horse down on these long rides," he explained to Roth. "They ignored the wishes and condition of the horse. Some riders would set a goal of so many miles a day then push on regardless of how the horse feels about it. Wrong, foolish business. I never did it in that way. If my horse didn't feel like making 60 miles a day, was a little below par, as horses, as well as men, sometimes are, I let him loaf along for a day." The next day he'd make up the lost mileage. Hopkins was often left behind at the start of a long race. He took the time to ease his horse and himself into a kind of road-rhythm. The first few days might show an average traveling of less than 50 miles per day, and other occasional days less than 40 or even 30 miles per day. But on many other days, Hopkins would travel 60 miles. In the Galveston to Rutland race he made an average daily distance of more than 57 miles, over a 31-day period. Covering such distance, Joe still finished this race eight pounds above his starting weight! Hopkins must have savored each victory. But his last race in the l920s may have been the best of all. A group of cavalrymen were organizing a modest 120-mile relay contest from Willimantic to Manchester, Connecticut. Hopkins' record as an endurance rider happened to be mentioned by some older fellows who had known him out West. Some of the younger troopers were highly skeptical of the tales. One rashly remarked that old timers only talked a good race. Hopkins was offended. Even though long retired in the East and getting up in years, he nevertheless entered the race. He rode the 120 miles, 20 miles per horse, in 7 hours, 48 minutes, and 9 seconds. "It was half an hour before one of the chaps rode into sight." Hopkins later recalled. "I was in bed for a week afterward from being hip-locked and with a bad back. But it was worth it. I showed 'em." Hopkins had again proven his old claim: "I never was a sprinter, but I knew a thing or two about long distance riding." |
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this site sponsored by The Horse of the Americas Registry, & IRAM - the Institute of Range and the American Mustang email:info@frankhopkins.com |
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