Hats off to Churchill Downs Inc. for memorializing two of Thoroughbred racing's most cherished individuals—Col. Matt Winn and John Asher—in the form of life-sized bronze statues now on display in the paddock plaza, not far from the entrance gates of Churchill Downs. The artist is Raymond Graf.
The statues are of the "animated" school of sculpture, depicting figures in some form of action connected with the endeavors for which their memories are being honored. In Louisville alone, Graf has on display statues of baseball's Pee Wee Reese and football's Paul Hornung, both captured in classic snapshots of poses familiar to trading card collectors. There's Reese airborne, about to whip a throw to first to complete a double play. And there's Hornung, ball tucked and high-stepping on his way to a TD, although at some point he lost his helmet. No matter.
In the case of Winn and Asher, neither claiming athletic prowess, their "action" was embodied in the use of the language in service to Churchill Downs and all things related to the Kentucky Derby (G1). Winn supercharged the event through the first half of the 20th century with his promotional and organizational skills, while Asher perpetuated the status of America's most famous horse race initially as a local radio star and later as a corporate spokesman.
So, appropriately, they are posed sitting on benches and talking to each other. Or, rather, Winn is talking and gesturing and Asher is listening, ever the dutiful acolyte. Winn died in 1949, at age 88. Asher was just 62 when a heart attack took him in 2018.
The installation begs interaction. Hopefully, souvenir photographs will be encouraged. There is room on both benches for company, although it is clear the two figures are intent on each other. Their conversation is impossible to interrupt.
In the world of make believe, had one not died seven years before the other was born, Winn and Asher would have spent long, satisfying hours talking about the history of the track and its marquee race. One man shaped its history, the other kept the fire stoked and burning as each Kentucky Derby experience unfolded.
And what a history it has been. Few sporting events can rival the breadth and depth of Derby lore. In this spirit, and taking inspiration from the Winn-Asher installation, this reporter has a few humble suggestions for animated sculptures, commemorated in sturdy bronze, of special people and moments indelibly associated with Churchill Downs and the Derby, beginning with:
Trainer Carl Nafzger, the former bull rider and future Hall of Famer, in an emotional embrace with tiny Frances Genter, his nonagenarian patron, in reaction to the victory of her colt Unbridled in the 1990 Kentucky Derby. With Graf creating the vivid moment, an observer would be able to almost hear Nafzger's heartfelt words above the raucous crowd that day, "Oh, Miz Genter, I love you!"
Want a real action scene, playing to the artist's strengths? Allow me to suggest a freeze-frame interpretation of the moment in 1968 that took place in the stables of Churchill Downs when Dr. Alex Harthill, veterinarian to the stars, connected with a left hook to the jaw of Louisville Courier-Journal reporter Billy Reed. Supposedly, it happened in retaliation for Reed's relentless coverage of Harthill's suspected role in the disqualification of Dancer's Image from victory in the Derby on a medication violation. Whatever the facts, the legend deserves a statue.
Just as the artist did with his Winn-Asher work, Harthill-Reed would require a leap of imagination. For a truly iconic piece of Derby lore that can be easily documented, though, I would turn to the stormy Derby of 1983 and the tableau presented by ABC's Howard Cosell and his expert analyst, five-time Derby winner Bill Hartack. There is that perfect, sculpture-ready moment when the edge of Cosell's beleaguered hairpiece is fluttering perilously in the wind and Hartack is holding forth, careful to avert his gaze from the looming disaster.
Then again, if ever there was a piece of Derby history that cries for the permanence of cast bronze it is the image of four-time Derby winner Bill Shoemaker explaining to Ralph Lowe, the owner of Gallant Man, why the rider misjudged the finish line of the race in 1957, indicating with his delicate, Hall of Fame hands by how much Iron Liege beat them when Shoe quickly figured out he had just screwed up.
But if I had to choose for the artist a solitary image and individual that speaks to all the wild hopes and colorful history wrapped up in the Kentucky Derby, I would commission a full-scale work of the tall figure of trainer Chip Woolley on crutches, wearing his black Stetson, sunglasses, and a cast on his elevated right ankle, standing alone in sober contemplation of the victory of Mine That Bird in the 2009 Derby at odds of 50-to-1. Suggested title: "What just happened?"
Those of us who knew John Asher appreciate any form of remembrance. Most of us heard him before we knew him and will always long for that radio voice, imbued with warm honey and a splash of Woodford Reserve, telling stories about the horses and the people who made the Derby part of our childhood racing memories. There was good reason he won five Eclipse Awards for local radio coverage of the sport.
It was gratifying to find that the man was as soothing and satisfying as his voice, always good company, and in love with his work. When he moved to the corporate side as spokesman for CDI, it was a genius move by the company, importing all that good will. Somehow, harsh corporate lines coming from John Asher were easier to swallow. Pro that he was, if they were hard to deliver, he kept it to himself.
This reporter is looking forward to sitting down beside the image of Asher on that bench at Churchill Downs. I'd apologize to the colonel, tap "John" on the shoulder, and whisper, "Sorry to interrupt, big guy. Did you hear there was a Derby in September? Or that the Arlington Park deal has gone bust? And I know you won't believe it, but we've got another Dancer's Image on our hands."
