Sold Short

MIDWAY, Ky. —  A charming small town ringed by regal thoroughbreds grazing on rolling hills of vibrant green attracted the nearby Lexington gentry to a “hamburger hootenanny” at a historic Southern inn on balmy Memorial Day.

The setting was everything steel-tempered city dweller Russell L. Reineman has grown to love about this patch of rural Kentucky, a slow-paced oasis where the racehorses he owns are brought up to speed.

Although Reineman, 84, was far from Midway last weekend, his name was prominent in the chit-chat and head-shaking of the horse breeders, business owners and University of Kentucky professors who occupied lawn chairs and ate burgers, red potato salad and baked beans in bourbon sauce while an acoustic band played from the porch of the 150-year-old Holly Hill Inn.

A shame, really, they declared. Like “Wrong Way” Roy Riegels, Reineman forever will be associated with a bonehead decision. Where was the gentleman’s horse sense?

Following the advice of his longtime trainer, Frank “Bobby” Springer, Reineman sold War Emblem five days after the colt had won the Illinois Derby and 23 days before the Kentucky Derby. Reineman hadn’t entered a horse in the Derby since 1986. War Emblem won it in stunning fashion.

The spunky 3-year-old also won the Preakness two weeks later and will race to become the first Triple Crown winner since 1978 in the Belmont Stakes on Saturday.

“It’s like a Greek play, one with elements of both tragedy and comedy,” commented a Midway local over rhubarb cobbler and a glass of merlot.

Reineman may fail to see the humor, but he has a straightforward message for second-guessers, from bluegrass insiders to $2 bettors: “I’m over it.”

As for tragedy, War Emblem doesn’t even rate show money to Reineman. His wife died after falling from her beloved jumper during an early morning ride in 1973, one of his daughters died unexpectedly six years ago, and the husband of his other daughter died of cancer a few months later.

“I made a business decision and I stand by it as a good business decision,” he said. “It’s one of those things; you can go any way or think a lot of different things, but I’m not mad or disturbed.”

That isn’t necessarily the ranting of a stubborn old man who refuses to recognize the error of his ways. Reineman was shrewd enough to retain 10% ownership of War Emblem, who is a victory away from a Triple Crown bonus of $5 million and is expected to be worth millions more as a sire.

And 10% ownership of a potential Triple Crown winner is worth more than 100% ownership of a horse standing in his stall, which is where War Emblem would have been during the Kentucky Derby had Reineman not sold him.

After the horse had won the $500,000 Illinois Derby on April 6, Springer persuaded Reineman to skip the run for the roses, reasoning that the incorrigibly front-running War Emblem would get caught up in what is often a brutal early fast pace and fade.

They contemplated holding onto the colt and entering the Preakness to try to win the $1-million bonus that comes with coupling an Illinois Derby victory with one in a Triple Crown race. But Springer, exasperated with War Emblem’s ornery temperament and seeming unwillingness to back off from the early pace and make a late run, believed the time was ripe for Reineman to cash in.

Meanwhile, Prince Ahmed Salman of Saudi Arabia and his trainer, Bob Baffert, watched the Illinois Derby on television several thousand miles apart and came to the same conclusion: Pursue the colt. The Prince plunked down $900,000, plus commissions, without even requesting a veterinary examination.

Baffert did call War Emblem’s vet the day of the purchase and, coincidentally, Springer was in the office and came to the phone. The two trainers began a cordial relationship that continued through Derby day.

Reineman was satisfied, believing he had unloaded potential damaged goods for enough cash to keep him in horse racing at a time his Chicago steel business was hemorrhaging money.

If he made a mistake during negotiations, it was in not addressing in the contract how the $1-million bonus would be split. Attorneys representing Reineman and Prince Salman say they are close to settling the issue.

“We weren’t going to run in the Derby anyway,” Reineman said. “Whether that was the right decision, well, it can be debated. But that’s what we decided and that made the Prince’s offer a fair deal.

“If I go around losing millions over too many years, I’ll eventually go broke. I hate to sell horses. There’s nothing like watching one of your babies win. I’d keep every horse I breed if I could. But I can’t absorb risks the way [wealthier] owners can.”

During 50 years as an owner and breeder, Reineman earned a reputation as a man of few pretenses. His down-to-earth Midwestern nature and acquired touch of Kentucky graciousness make him a favorite of the valets, grooms and bartenders he showers with small talk and tips. When one of his mostly workmanlike horses wins a stakes race--there have been about 20--he sends cases of champagne to the press box.

So what’s he supposed to do, now that War Emblem has become Kirk Gibson, transforming from an ill-tempered physical wreck into a sports icon for the ages? Reineman decided to enjoy the ride, even if he’s watching from his Chicago home instead of basking in the winner’s circle.

“He’s going to be 85 in December and this is the best medicine anybody can prescribe,” said Reineman’s daughter, Lynne McCutcheon. “That horse is so awesome. The way it worked out, we couldn’t be happier. It is an incredible story.”

McCutcheon runs the day-to-day operations of Reineman’s Crown Steel Sales and also keeps tabs on her father’s 135 horses, many kept at Nuckols Farm in Midway.

“All of our horses can be traced to four or five mares 40 to 50 years ago,” McCutcheon said. “That’s scary.”

Reineman’s passion for horses began early. As a youngster in Pittsburgh, his uncle, trainer Charles Weightman, took him to Wheeling Downs in West Virginia and Thistledown in Ohio.

“Minors weren’t allowed in the gate and my uncle would put a floppy hat on my head and tell the attendant I was a midget,” he said.

Growing up fast in the Depression years, he learned the steel industry in his teens and in 1955 bought out his brother Howard’s interest in the family business, which he describes as a steel supermarket.

Reineman also learned horses from Howard, who owned Crown Crest Farm near Lexington, buying colts from him and eventually beginning a breeding operation. When Howard sold the farm about 40 years ago, Reineman began boarding his mares at the 110-year-old Nuckols Farm and never left.

War Emblem hit the scene when one of Reineman’s broodmare’s, 8-year-old Sweetest Lady, was bred to 7-year-old Our Emblem and dropped the foal in one of Charlie Nuckols III’s green-trimmed barns on Feb. 20, 1999.

“He was a big foal, black as can be,” Nuckols said. “Basically, he lived an uneventful life, growing up on a 40-acre field with 10 other foals or yearlings.”

War Emblem attracted a bid of only $19,000 at the Keeneland yearling sale in September 2000 and Reineman bought him back for $20,000. Several trainers, Elliott Walden and John Ward Jr. among them, passed because of bone chips in the horse’s ankles and what was diagnosed as a narrow esophagus.

Springer, 55, did his best with him, but War Emblem had won only $66,000 before earning his $300,000 winner’s share at the Illinois Derby. In Midway, discreet criticism is directed at Reineman’s trainer of 18 years.

“Reineman has been so loyal to this guy, even though he hasn’t produced any good horses,” one breeder said. “The best any owner or farm can do is put horses in good hands.”

Daily Racing Form statistics for trainers go back to 1989, and since then Springer has had 365 wins from 2,583 starters for a modest winning percentage of 14.1%. His entries are at small- and medium-sized tracks and he has never had a horse in a Triple Crown race.

Other trainers at Chicago-area tracks Arlington Park and Hawthorne say Springer is known for choosing his races carefully, a tendency that boomeranged with War Emblem.

For decades, Reineman’s top trainer was the legendary Woody Stephens, who died in 1998. But the owner refuses to entertain the idea that Stephens would have kept the horse and entered him in the Kentucky Derby.

“Woody was one of the best ever,” Reineman said. “There’s no point in playing ‘What if.’”

He won’t even play it with Springer. The men have talked several times since the sale but have yet to discuss War Emblem.

“What am I going to say about it?” Reineman said.

Springer has mixed feelings, expressing regret at selling his ticket to the major races, yet adhering to the belief that the decision made sense at the time.

Baffert credits Springer with providing a detailed evaluation of War Emblem, enabling the new trainer to make adjustments.

The brash Baffert is the object of scorn for buying what many term “a ready-made winner” so close to the first Triple Crown race. But clearly, the trainer made a difference in a short time.

“I know War Emblem was a handful, but after the sale he was a happy camper,” one breeder said. “That shows you the horse had potential all along.”

And in the Preakness, War Emblem proved he had learned to do more than lead from gate to wire. Jockey Victor Espinoza sat off the lead until the far turn before cutting him loose.

“The one thing people keep overlooking in all of this is that this dude can run,” Baffert said after the race. “I think we all found out today that opinions die, records live. This horse is for real.”

As War Emblem swept down the track, Reineman and his daughter cheered wildly. Their joy was bittersweet not because they had sold 90% of the horse, but because their deceased loved ones are not here to share the experience.

Reineman’s wife, Marion, loved horses and cherished family visits to the quaint getaway of Midway. She fell from her hunter, Ginger, on a farm in Crete, Ill., 29 years ago and died of basal brain damage.

Six years ago, a double tragedy hit, the death of Reineman’s daughter Nancy, a former Broadway dancer and singer, of a damaged heart valve, and the death of McCutcheon’s husband David of throat cancer.

“That was devastating for my dad,” McCutcheon said. “I didn’t think he was going to make it out of that.”

Yet he did. And it will be from the unique perspective one develops over decades of successes and struggles, jubilance and pain that Russell Reineman roots on War Emblem during the Belmont.

He’ll be sitting at home. And should Prince Salman again stand exultant in the winner’s circle, Reineman will wait for a check in his mailbox big enough for him to continue pursuing his lifelong passion.