Horse is running on the ground

It is the story of two hitchhikers who jumped on their final ride on a dreary side street in Detroit in August 1936.

Two hitchhikers jumped off their final ride on a dreary side street in Detroit in August 1936. With four legs between them, they wandered along the backstretch of Fair Grounds. The stouter was a hockey agent, Yummy, a flame-haired former prizefighter with his client Johnny Pollard. Yummy loved to call him “The Cougar,” with his boxing moniker. The two had wrecked Yummy’s automobile. They gathered up their main assets, 27 cents and “bow-wow wine”, and thumbed their way into the track. They desperately labor, coiled the hanging rows and asked almost every trainer on the site. Nobody was ready to put a leg on Pollard’s horse. 

Four Legs Good

The last barn they visited was managed by a dark trainer called Tom Smith, an elderly cowboy whose origins were driven by boundary cattle. Smith had gone east with his new boss San Francisco car-magnate Charles Howard, searching for horses for Howard’s racing stabilizer. The coach and the owner had a strong enough jockey to manage their new acquisition, a rugged, stormy colt called Seabiscuit. Smith believed Pollards’s physical strength could trick the trick. 

The lives of two very different individuals had reached a crossroads and started their busy hour. The unlikely alliance they had created will develop the best latent potential in everybody, define a vital American age, and transform a wounded miniature horse into one of the most beloved heroes of the century. 

Each of the soldiers went on a long, arduous path to the summer of 1936. Their legs had to carry them quite far. The voyage began in 1903 in New York for Charles Howard, when the young Cavalry veteran left his work as a cycling repairman and went west to try his luck. He set up a bicycle repair shop downtown when he arrived in San Francisco. He had beautiful timing. It was the birth of the age of the vehicle; there were no garages yet, so owners started to bring their automobiles to the car mechanic in the city, Charles Howard. 


The new technology captivated Howard He anticipated a revolution and moved to Detroit. William C. Durant, head of cars at Buick and the future General Motors Foundation, introduced himself. Howard left Buicks for 8 Western states with the only distributorship. It was 1905, and he was not yet 30. 

Howard returned to San Francisco with two Buicks in tow, where his commodities were banished from the town in the tourist districts and hit by clouds of dust and muck. The machinery was unreasonably costly; modest examples were two times the annual average wage. When Howard wrapped his cars in his improvisational showroom, his cycling shop’s saloon, his success was far from certain. 

His fortunes turn occurred in the worst manner. The ground under San Francisco melted in a gigantic trimmer at 5:12 am on April 18, 1906. The city tumbled in 60 seconds. Fires raced over ruins and licked up to life. The town needed heavy water transport, firefighters, the injured, and more than 250,000 homeless, but conventional cars were paralyzed as car horses were shrinking from weariness.