“Horse Racing Royalty”: Allison Janney, Ruffian, and a Ride on Secretariat

By Tobi Lopez Taylor

Just after Finest City won the 2016 Breeders’ Cup Filly and Mare Sprint at Santa Anita Park, NBC’s racing commentator Laffit Pincay—son of Hall of Fame jockey Laffit Pincay Jr.— made some remarks that “won” him a Turkey Award courtesy of racing’s Paulick Report. It all started when actress Allison Janney arrived in the winner’s circle to present the trophy to Finest City’s connections. Pincay accidentally introduced Janney as “Elizabeth Janney,” and then compounded his mistake by calling her an Academy Award winner—which she was not. That is, not until last week, when she received an Oscar for her supporting role in I, Tonya.

If you happened to notice Allison Janney in the winner’s circle that day, you may have wondered if she had any particular interest in horses or horse racing. Indeed she does, and she comes by it naturally.  In fact, Allison is not the only statuesque, talented, award-winning female member of the Janney family: her great-uncle, Stuart Janney Jr., and his wife Barbara Phipps Janney, were the breeders and owners of the incredible filly Ruffian, the highest-ranked female runner on the Blood-Horse’s list of the top 100 racehorses of the twentieth century and a member of the Horse Racing Hall of Fame.

Although Janney appears to be more of a dog person than an equestrian, she did say, during an October 2013 appearance on The Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson, that she is “horse racing royalty,” and that in addition to her uncle having owned Ruffian, her cousin Stuart Janney III had bred and raced that year’s Kentucky Derby winner, Orb, who descends from the same female family as Ruffian. Then the future Academy Award winner ended the episode by climbing aboard a pantomime horse called Secretariat that was a fixture on Ferguson’s program. Tally-ho and congratulations, “Elizabeth Janney”!

An Unexpected Encounter with Penny Chenery, Owner of Secretariat

By Tobi Lopez Taylor

An Arizona Horse History Project Essay

This essay is part of the ongoing Arizona Horse History Project series, which also includes posts on Hank the Cowdog, Man O’ War’s son By Hisself, Frank Brophy, and Doc Pardee. 

I read today that Penny Chenery, owner of racing legend Secretariat, died yesterday at age 95. Although we never had an opportunity to meet, Ms. Chenery and I did have an unexpected encounter some years ago.
 

      In 2000, Secretariat's second-oldest son, Statesman, then aged 26, lived with me at my home in Scottsdale, Arizona. Statesman was one of two test foals sired by Big Red out of non-Thoroughbred mares, and he went on to have his own career as a breeding stallion, polo pony, and dressage horse. In addition to having an absolute blast riding him, I'd also written two articles about Statesman--one in Blood-Horse and another in Dressage Today. (The latter was later reprinted in An Apple A Day, an anthology edited by well-known equine writer Kimberly Gatto.)

       Statesman's farrier at that time was my friend J.P. Luyssaert, who decided to attend the Rolex three-day event in Kentucky that year. While there, he noticed that an artist was selling signed prints of Big Red and that her co-signer for the day was Penny Chenery. JP kindly decided to buy one for me as a gift.

        When Ms. Chenery asked JP whom she should inscribe it to, he replied, "Make it 'To Tobi and Statesman.'" Ms. Chenery then surprised him by asking if he meant Statesman, the son of Secretariat in Arizona. When he said yes, she told him she'd enjoyed reading my Blood-Horse article and that she was glad that I was enjoying Statesman so much. I was touched by both JP's gesture and Ms. Chenery's kind words.  Godspeed, Penny, and thank you.

My Neighbor, the Olympian: Major-General Jonathan Burton, an Equestrian Legend

By Tobi Lopez Taylor

This essay is part of the ongoing Arizona Horse History Project series, which also includes posts on Penny Chenery and Secretariat, Hank the Cowdog, Man O’ War’s son By Hisself, Frank Brophy,  Doc Pardee, and another essay about General Burton.  

About two months ago, a woman and a man came walking up my driveway on a Saturday morning. I had two horses turned out in the arena. Often, people drop by to watch the horses romp or to ask whether I board horses (I don’t), or inquire if I know where they can buy a pony for their child (ditto) or a quarter horse for their husband (also ditto). I have sport horses, equines bred to event, do dressage, or jump—and that kind of thing is rare on my side of Tucson, where the majority of riders I know either rope or trail ride.

But back to the couple. The woman said they lived nearby and stopped because they’d seen dressage letters in my arena. She inquired about whether I rode dressage (yes), and did I have a trainer (yes), and then she said, “My father, here, is a horse trainer. His name is Jack Burton.”

I couldn’t believe it. “You’re not Major-General Jonathan Burton, are you?”

The man nodded, and his eyes lit up.

“It’s an honor to meet you, sir.”

General Burton is a legend in the horse world: a member of the 1956 Olympic three-day event team, past president of various equestrian federations, international judge, and author. Not long after I’d begun to take dressage lessons, in the 1980s, a friend had given me Burton’s book How to Ride a Winning Dressage Test. And Burton is still judging: I recalled that he’d given a wonderful score to a Trakehner colt named Horatio SF, bred by my friend Heather Buttrum Jantzen, in an in-hand class at a show in California a couple of years earlier.

At left: General Burton show jumping in 1949; at right, taking a fall on the Olympic cross-country course in Stockholm, 1956 (he remounted and finished the course). 

Burton, who is closer to ninety than he is to eighty, rides his bike several days a week. Ever since our first meeting, he’s dropped by a number of times to pet whichever horse of ours is turned out near the road, usually Rosie, my Arabian mare. He doesn’t say much but seems quite glad to simply be around horses on a somewhat regular basis.

The General unintentionally made my day on the Saturday after Thanksgiving. My husband and I were in the arena with Immaginn, my two-year-old Anglo-Arabian gelding, whose nickname, like the General’s, is Jack. This gelding is a product of our small breeding program, and he is by far the best one. I find very little to fault in him, but I'm well aware of that scourge of horse breeding, “barn blindness.” As it happened, General was passing by on his daily bike ride. When he got to our driveway, he pulled in and stopped. “Who is THAT?” he exclaimed, as Jack trotted around. “He’s magnificent!”

My husband looked at me and rolled his eyes, knowing he’d never hear the end of that remark.

“Can I quote you on that?” I asked.

“Sure!” The General watched Jack walk, trot, canter, and play for about fifteen minutes. I asked him if he thought he saw a particular discipline—dressage, jumping?—in his future. “The sky’s the limit with that one,” he replied, and then he pedaled on home. I have been smiling ever since, and am now calling Jack (the gelding, not the General) “Mr. Magnificent.”

General Burton and Immaginn: Jack and Jack.

Interestingly, what the General didn’t know was that he himself had seen the sire of this gelding. Jack’s dad is a stallion named Innkeeper, one of the last remaining sons of the famous Secretariat, and the only one licensed for warmblood breeding. Innkeeper’s owner, Ursula Ferrier, and I are friends. A while back, she wrote, “Hilltop Farm asked if we could bring [Innkeeper] to a breed judges’ seminar with the head of the Swedish National Stud at their farm. He was a big hit...and Major General Jonathon Burton thought he was the only ‘real’ stallion there.” Imagine—or rather, Immaginn—that!