(This story was originally published in 2017 and has been updated) COUNT FLEET 1944 C. HEWITT “THE CHAMP”. The simple words were scratched into wet cement more than three-quarters of a century ago. In a corner of a long neglected and dimly-lit Belmont feed room, the words barely discernible a few years back have since disappeared beneath a layer of mud. A leaky nearby washer and still-used hose occasionally wet them; people working there walk on them. No one – even those still stabled in the old barn – notice them. Yet when the light is just so – and if a visitor pushes the door back, grabs a scrub brush, crouches down, and gets to cleaning – the words beckon. Etched by a man long since forgotten, they are a loving shout-out to one of the greatest horses in our history. Many fans know Count Fleet’s name because every list of Triple Crown winners includes it. Students of racing history know he was associated with John D. Hertz of Yellow Cab and Hertz rental car fame (Count Fleet was bred and raced in John’s wife Fannie’s name). Some remember that Count Fleet’s jockey was John Longden or that the Hertz silks were yellow and black. Diehard fans know Count Fleet’s stellar record (21-16-4-1) and that his powerful Belmont Stakes win was voted one of the greatest racing moments of the twentieth century. Considering he left Belmont eighty years ago, few if any folks remember seeing Count Fleet race in person. But back when racing was revered and enthusiastic turf writers reached deep with superlatives, Count Fleet was front-page news. Among his nicknames were “the busy brown bullet,” “Mr. Moneybags,” “The Fleet,” “The Count,” “the turf’s glamor boy,” “Count Cukoo” (sic), “the Bounding Blitz,” the “mercury-legged brown son,” and “the wonder horse.” And there were others.< "His stable name was Old Zeke for a long time, because of the manner in which he relaxes. He puts his head down, his ears go flat, his eyes droop and he looks 100 years old. But now the grooms and the foreman of the Hertz barn call him simply The Champ." -Bob Considine, Cincinnati Enquirer, May 16, 1943 The words that follow aren’t a race-by-race biography, as there are countless Count Fleet articles both online and in history books. Yet pondering “C. Hewitt’s” words inspired me to study up on "The Champ." A son of the Hertzes’ 1928 Kentucky Derby winner Reigh Count and their mare Quickly, Count Fleet was born March 24, 1940 at Hertzes' Stoner Creek Stud. Count Fleet was offered as a yearling for just $4,500 but there were no takers. Perhaps it was because the small colt wasn’t considered very attractive – a claim writers later relished mentioning. The colt also displayed occasional flashes of attitude. "Sam Ransom…was the first person on his back. … Ransom was drafted into the Army. Before leaving, he came into my office to bid me good-bye, and on that occasion said to me, “Mr. Hertz, don’t ever sell that leggy, brown colt. He has tried to kill me in every way I know of, not out of meanness, but he sure has brushed me up against every tree and barn on the place that he could. Mr. Hertz, when that leggy, brown colt wants to run, he can just about fly!"" -The Racing Memoirs of John Hertz, 1954 Once Count Fleet reached the racetrack, Johnny Longden, too, found the colt difficult. In his biography, Longden said the first time he worked him, the headstrong colt chose to split two horses that were in his way. Longden simply could not steer him around. Regardless of any dangers, however, Longden said he chose to keep riding Count Fleet. John Hertz remembered it slightly differently. In his autobiography - which is no study in humility - Hertz said the first time Count Fleet and Longden partnered, Count Fleet saw a rub rag on the track and tried to jump the inside rail. Longden dismounted immediately, walked Count Fleet back to the trainer and told the man he’d best find a new exercise rider. "While I knew that it was unusual and to the best of my knowledge had not been tried at so early a stage, I suggested that the trainer slip a pair of blinkers on the colt. The trainer reported within the next day or two that he had used blinkers on the colt and that he had breezed in them like a lamb." -The Racing Memoirs of John Hertz, 1954 Oddly, Hertz did not mention trainer Don Cameron’s name in his book, at least that I found, repeatedly referring to him as “the trainer.” There’s no arguing Count Fleet could be problematic at times. His five losses, all at age two, were likely due to his difficult ways, swerving or otherwise being inattentive to the task at hand. It was said he lost the Belmont Futurity because of l’amour: he refused to pass a filly named Askmenow. Yet Hertz, Longden, and Cameron agreed on one thing: Count Fleet was not evil. Each felt the colt was, rather, unusually intelligent and competitive. He liked to have things his way. Hertz, especially, did not mind those characteristics in a horse. He picked out Reigh Count when the horse was two because, at Saratoga, Reigh Count bit a rival during a race. “I have always loved a fighter, man or horse,” he later said.   When you consider sixteen wins in twenty-one starts, with four seconds and a third, it’s clear that Count Fleet was a great racehorse. But he was more than that. Thirteen times in his twenty-one races he was odds-on, including being .40-1 in the Kentucky Derby and 1-20 in his final two starts. He won the Walden Stakes by some thirty lengths and his final race, the Belmont Stakes, by twenty-five (some early newspaper accounts said thirty lengths, changed to twenty-five in later accounts). With that Belmont romp he became the sport’s sixth Triple Crown winner. Oh, and because such things were done in those days, between the Preakness and Belmont he added the then-important Withers to his resume. The record for betting on one horse in a race was broken on Belmont day when $249,916 was plunked down on Count Fleet, an astonishing number for the times (approximate $4.4M in 2023). And the track paid the price: an out-of-pocket $15,912.02 to cover their minus pool. Count Fleet also set his own records. Despite never being set down by Longden, he set a new world record for two-year-olds in the Champagne Stakes, equaled a track record when winning the Pimlico Futurity, and set a stakes record in the Wood Memorial. And that twenty-length Belmont Stakes score? Despite suffering an injury during the race he also set a stakes record, besting War Admiral’s mark (his record was equaled by Citation in 1948 and broken by Gallant Man in 1957). Count Fleet sometimes broke track records in his workouts – unofficially, of course. And he zoomed around the barn so quickly when being cooled out, tugging lustily against his hotwalkers, that they took turns. Through it all, he was no pet. Although he was apparently very polite when his Fannie Hertz gave him sugar, it’s said Count Fleet enjoyed acting sweet as other visitors approached to pat or kiss his head – and then he’d swing his head to slam them. But, again, his connections knew he wasn’t truly mean. "Count Fleet stopped munching a mixture of clover, timothy and alfalfa to take a playful nip at his exercise boy at Belmont Park today and Trainer Don Cameron’s eyes glowed as he looked at the wonder horse of 1943,” wrote UPI’s Oscar Fraley in April 1944. "“He’s a big fake,” the ruddy-faced Scotsman smiled. “He wouldn’t hurt a baby. Watch.” "Cameron shoved a ham-like hand into the stall and the Count flashed his big teeth toward them like a man without a ration book diving into a steak. Inches away the mouth closed and the shiny brown horse nuzzled Cameron’s hand with his velvety nose. “"See what I mean?” Cameron asked. …" Niceties (or lack thereof) aside, this was clearly a colt who understood and relished his job. Also clearly, he was more than just very good. He was the shortest-priced Kentucky Derby future book favorite in history at the time, at 5-2. And in the eighty-plus seasons since the Experimental Free Handicap was created, Count Fleet remains the only horse to be weighted at over 130 pounds – at an astonishing 132 pounds. His running style inspired famed writer John Hervey to write, in the 1942 American Race Horses: "He runs with a high head, his stride is slashing, he rises high off the ground in his air-flight, has strong finishing capacity and goes at his work with the utmost resolution." There were writers during Count Fleet’s time – even some who saw Man o’ War - who wondered if he was the best Thoroughbred of all. More recently, when Blood-Horse compiled their list of the hundred top racehorses of the twentieth century, Count Fleet landed in fifth – in front of the likes of Dr. Fager, Native Dancer, Seattle Slew, and Spectacular Bid. "How good Count Fleet was will never be known for certain. Longden, who went on to become the rider of more winners than any jockey in world history – and rider in the most races – rated Count Fleet the best horse he had ever seen. The only jockey to ride the Hertz colt in a race, Longden also exercised him at times, and he later stated that once, just once, he turned the brown flash loose for an instant, to satisfy his curiosity concerning how fast Count Fleet really was – but felt such a surge of power that he took him in hand again almost immediately, fearful of the consequences." -William H.P. Robertson, The History of Thoroughbred Racing in America, 1964 The injury Count Fleet suffered during his runaway Belmont score led to a series of recoveries and, each time a return seemed inevitable, subsequent injuries. Despite high hopes, his retirement was announced in July 1944 - just over a year after his Belmont win. I wonder on what date in 1944 did C. Hewitt scrape his words into that cement? Was it upon the colt’s retirement? Count Fleet was shipped to the Hertzes’ expansive farm in Paris, KY, where he'd been born four years earlier. There, at beautiful Stoner Creek Stud, Count Fleet proved both an excellent sire and, eventually, an excellent broodmare sire. Among Count Fleet’s top runners are names familiar even now, like Counterpoint, One Count, Kentucky Derby winner Count Turf, and Kiss Me Kate. He was the country’s leading sire in 1951 and, twelve years later, the leading broodmare sire. His daughters produced such memorable horses as Lamb Chop, Prince John, Kentucky Derby winner Lucky Debonair, Quill, and the five-time Horse of the Year Kelso. Mr. Prospector descends from Count Fleet as well. When Assault died in 1971 Count Fleet remained as the only living Triple Crown winner, and some romantics fancied he was sticking around until another horse earned the crown. Secretariat won the Triple Crown in 1973 and Count Fleet, thirty-three, died December third of that year. He was buried in the farm cemetery. (By then, Stoner Creek Stud was a Standardbred farm, but Count Fleet had lived out his days there. It has been said that when the farm’s famous stallion Nevele Pride died and was buried in 1993, he and Count Fleet’s headstones were swapped so Nevele Pride’s stone would have the cemetery’s place of honor. There is no proof that is true, and people who worked there at the time say it is untrue. But it is certainly a good story.) Reading now that Count Fleet’s career ended due to an injury in 1944 doesn’t sound startling. But back then, when racing was at its peak and Americans needed distractions from World War II? The war was so worrisome, in fact, that a photo of Count Fleet all alone in the 1943 Belmont shows a large infield board that read, among other things, STAY CALM IN CASE OF AIR RAID. In a time when writers shared details about Count Fleet's attitude, look, races, and connections, he was an American hero. Even his name sounded like victory. And then he was gone. "Count Fleet came and went “like an army with banners…” "It may be trite, but it is just as true to say that “since Man o’ War” no other three-year-old has squandered his opposition with such easy or moved through the “classics” with such invincibility. The sudden way in which his light went out added to the startling effect of it all. The “blaze of glory” was extinguished at its brightest – so complete that by contrast the ensuing blackness was almost Stygian. It was like a stage spectacular calculated to leave the audience gasping – and so in truth it did.” -John Hervey, 1944 American Race Horses In Racing in America 1937 – 1959, Robert Kelley wrote a Stygian-free chapter about 1943 called “The Year of Count Fleet”: "This year in Thoroughbred racing will always be remembered as “Count Fleet’s year.” And that is an interesting thing, for Count Fleet ran only six times during the entire season and he was out of action before the end of June. Not in modern years has there been a greater impression left on racing people than that left this season by the son of Reigh Count out of Quickly. "Count Fleet’s sophomore year was like a skyrocket flaring across the sky to reach its climax of blinding white, then suddenly blacking out. Man o’ War and, in later years, Citation had somewhat the same effect on the sport. But the shortness of this one, with complete dominance over racers of all ages and sex, is almost without parallel in the Thoroughbred annals."P> I grew up worshiping Count Fleet, with an old photo of he and Johnny Longden taped on my bedroom wall. I read book stories about his stunning feats, studied Count Fleet photos, drew pictures of him. To me he was the stuff of dreams - and he couldn’t have been more handsome. I sometimes wonder if any children tape Count Fleet photos to their walls or use his photo for computer desktop patterns now. With countless information a click away it seems more difficult for stories in dusty books, with grainy black-and-white photos and grand tales of wins and records, to impress. I wonder how many children now even open racing books now, scouring library shelves for books with the Dewey Decimal’s number 636.1 (horses) and 798.8 (horse racing). I hope some still do. So, now, back to those simple words written in cement in the feed room of barn 39 at Belmont. Although a few people there call it the “barn Kelso built" – it was apparently Mrs. Allaire du Pont’s barn – it seems Count Fleet must have resided there. There’s simply no other reason for Mr. Hewitt to have engraved those words there. When researching Count Fleet’s name, with “Belmont” and “barn,” countless old articles pop up. Most are basic fare - that the horse was at Belmont and awaiting various engagements or recovering from injury. Yet a precious few chronicled his day-by-day life, easy to imagine when looking down the aged shedrow all these decades later. "There are nine horses in the Hertz barn at Belmont but the apple of everybody’s eye is the Count, known to all hands as the “Champ.” And never was there an infant that received more care. Never is the Count left alone. Night and day there’s a man in his stall and a fine wire screen over the door prevents anything from being thrown into his quarters… "In three hearts he rules supreme, those of assistant trainer Charley Hewitt, exercise “boy” Billy Hodges, a little withered man of 60, and Bottom Rail, the “Champ’s” stable companion. Hewitt, a British soldier in the first world war, lives for the Count, even keeping a huge scrapbook for the Hertz Hurricane." -Oscar Fraley (UPI), Nevada State Journal, April 4, 1944 And there he was: Charley Hewitt. C. Hewitt, the man who felt it important to etch Count Fleet’s name into cement. Hewitt was British, a war veteran and, clearly, an unusually sentimental sort. Many vintage articles reference Hewitt. He was sometimes quoted relating how Count Fleet was feeling or how the horse had traveled to various races. Although most referred to him as Charley, a Blood-Horse article was a bit more formal: "Charles Hewitt, assigned by trainer Don Cameron to take care of Count Fleet in the racing stable, is at the farm (Stoner Creek Stud) with him. To Hewitt he is, without reservation, “the best horse I ever saw. "“They fault his conformation,” said Hewitt, “but he can do the job.” "I asked Hewitt his impression of the colt’s action, his way of going in races. "“Very good,” he said. Then he paused a moment, searching for the right way to say it. “Impressive is the word, I guess. Impressive – and easy. That’s the best thing about him, the way he runs. He doesn’t pound the ground like most horses. He doesn’t have to dig in and push, but sort of rocks along as if it were the easiest thing in the world. He stretches way out with his forelegs, like this – way out… Nice horse to handle too. A bit high strung but a good doer; always eats well….” And then there were these wonderful words in a Chicago Tribune article of April 30, 1944: "Barn 30, which is Count Fleet’s home at Belmont Park, is a veritable “zoo” with the John D. Hertz string…. The stalls are thickly populated by hens, roosters, wild mallard ducks, two goats, and the stable dog…. Pete, a rooster raised by Charley Hewitt, the stable foreman, gives ground to no one… the rooster’s special delight is pecking away at Trainer Don Cameron’s ankles." It’s barn 39 nowadays. Was the article in error, or perhaps the barn number has changed? As it’s been nearly eighty years since the Champ retired, the latter is certainly possible. How I wish that barn, and others, had signs thereon to help people remember their rich history. Where Man o’ War was stabled at Belmont and Saratoga, for instance, remains a constant curiosity to me. There are rumors about various Saratoga barns, including barn 43, but no certainty. Shouldn’t that be known? Anyway, a heartfelt thank you to C. Hewitt and his beloved “Champ” for bringing Belmont’s tired barn 39 to new life for me. As I pass by, I now picture Count Fleet – perhaps not the handsomest horse in the history of our sport but among its all-time best. Perhaps the best. Count Fleet struts down that shedrow, intimidating people, dragging hotwalkers and dazzling reporters. After cooling down the lively bay is rubbed with witch hazel, arnica, and alcohol; his feet are painted with unrefined whale oil. He rests at night with protective mesh at the stall front, someone watching to keep him safe as hens, roosters, ducks, goats, dogs, and equine stablemates rest nearby. And although I could find only one lousy old newspaper photo of Charley Hewitt, his face details indiscernible, I can picture the British veteran. He is carefully gluing newspaper articles into large albums, studying every move of his famous charge, updating reporters with his English accent, and smiling as his rooster Pete torments Don Cameron. And, one day in 1944, he is crouching down to record a love story in wet cement. * I find no mention of Charley Hewitt after 1944 despite heartfelt online searches. I’ve tried with various catch words like “assistant trainer,” “Count Fleet,” “John D. Hertz,” “Thoroughbred,” “Stoner Creek,” and “Don Cameron.” If anyone knows what became of Charley, I would love to learn more about him. With thanks to Debra Cedano for first posting a photograph of the feed room floor on her Facebook page and to Tom Hall at Blood-Horse for his always kind assistance.