Many, many, years ago in a land faraway in our memories, a little horse called Elkridge left an indelible mark on American steeplechasing.
Once upon a time, in a land called the ’40s and early ’50s, there lived a little horse called Elkridge. Just 16 hands and of slender build, he didn’t look like a mighty champion, but he was.

With limbs of iron that carried him to 31 wins in 123 starts over fences during 11 seasons of racing, Elkridge had the heart of a lion and still remains one of the best horses to ever face a hurdle in America. The timber star Saluter, with 21 career victories, is the only steeplechaser whose total victory count is within 10 of Elkridge’s.

If hurdles were dragons, then Elkridge was the White Knight who slayed them. And if Elkridge was a fairytale prince of a horse, then Delaware Park was his kingdom.

Back then, Delaware Park, just south of Wilmington, was a gracious gem of a racecourse, rivaling the “Spa” in Saratoga (N.Y.) and Keeneland (Ky.) at its best. The cream of society gathered in the grassy paddock, under the tall oak trees every summer. The ladies looked cool and elegant in their white gloves, silk stockings and veiled hats. The gentlemen, out for a sporting afternoon, eagerly searched the racing form for clues about which horses to bet.

The spacious grandstand sported every luxurious amenity. In the private boxes, patrons had linen napkins, the best champagne in the best crystal glasses, and gourmet food. Their menus were all individually adorned with their names and the colors of their silks, and the staff deferred to them by name.

The folk who poured into Delaware Park from nearby Wilmington, or on the trains, south from Philadelphia and north from Baltimore, knew the horses were the best, the races were competitive, and that there was nothing like the thrill of a well-placed bet.

No Expense Spared

Founded in 1938 by one of the great sportsmen of the 20th century, William H. du Pont, Delaware Park ruled the Mid-Atlantic region. Du Pont and his friends wanted a place to race their horses and have some fun. Their goal was to produce the finest races, even if it meant sacrificing large fields and large betting handles.

Du Pont didn’t expect nor need a return on his investment, and he nurtured his course like a protective mother. Since officials at Delaware Park revered steeplechasing as an equal draw to flat racing, the sport flourished.

Under du Pont’s supervision, a tremendous amount of effort went into building Delaware’s three different steeplechase
courses, which were woven inside and outside the dirt track. There was the ordinary hurdle course, the small brush course–and then there was the stakes course.

Used only for two races, the Georgetown Steeplechase Handicap and the Indian River Steeplechase Handicap, these natural brush fences were nearly 100 feet wide from wing to wing, well over 5 feet high, with some close to 6 feet high on the landing side. The take-off mound in front of the fences was easily 2 feet high, so as a horse approached these fences, they were truly walls of earth and brush.

There was a formidable water jump and a fence with an open ditch on the take-off side. They were built from framed boxes, packed 3 feet wide and solidly, with cedar boughs. A horse really had to jump them, not just belly through them.

The stakes course started in the infield and crossed the dirt track at the start of the backstretch, it ran parallel to the main track down the backside and then re-crossed the dirt track, returning to the infield prior to turning for home.

“Jumping talent now doesn’t quite pay the dividend it used too,” said Austin Brown, who managed Delaware Park in the ’60s and who started riding over fences during Elkridge’s time. “Riding over those fences was a little tougher and took a lot of talent.”

Brown added that people just didn’t realize what it took to build such fences. He said great stacks of cedar boughs were hauled in from the mountains. Some of the brush in the fences was live and nursed year-round, but most of it was packed. And all this construction and earth moving was done for just a summer meet and for just two races of that meet.

Always The Favorite

And jumping was something that Elkridge excelled at. He loved the Delaware Park stakes course, winning the Indian River five times, with five different jockeys aboard. When he jogged onto the course, always the favorite in the race, the crowd would leap to their feet in respect for the little bay.

Trainer Joe Clancy Sr., just a young boy then, can remember the excitement in the grandstand when Elkridge hit the track.

“What a great horse he was. Always the favorite for that race, the crowd just loved him, and the announcer would whip their enthusiasm up as the horses galloped to the start by recounting all of Elkridge’s past wins. He would just keep talking it up until the flag dropped.”

It’s sweetly ironic that the “little” horse became synonymous with those big fences. A true stayer, Elkridge relished the 21