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HYPERION TO A SATYR By SALVATOR I In the "good old times" of the four-master it took a month or more for the result of the Epsom Derby, "the greatest race in the world," to reach this side of the Atlantic. Then came the steamship, and cut the time in two. Then, in 1866, the first Atlantic cable began to function regularly and it was possible to know what won not that same evining, for that would have been entirely too swift a tempo for "them days" but the next morning. However, a few years later it was in the evening papers. The next step forward was to get it into the afternoon, and then the noon editions of the day of the race. That began at least twenty-five years ago. It seemed a wonderful thing to many an old-timer of the "turn of the century" who could remember clean back to the days of the sailing vessels and the month or six weeks of delay. But now, because of the radio, the whole world has the privilege, by listening in, of seeing and hearing the entire affair, so to speak, moment by moment, as it occurs. This has been going on now for several years. On the morning of Wednesday, May 31, 1933, I for the third time in succession followed the Derby field from post to finish" while they progressed around the course; heard the tremendous clamor that arose as they neared home, above which it was difficult for the announcer to make himself distinctly heard; and, finally, with a real thrill, heard him fairy scream out: "Hyperion! Hyperion! Hyperion is the winner! Hyperion has won the Derby!" So, as tempus, our once-deliberate old friend, fugits hot-footedly along his way, has his method of communication speeded up. The next advance it is somewhat difficult to predict. Will it be television enabling us to literally behold Epsom Downs and all that occurs there? So the optimistic assert But of late things have been rather quiet on the televistic firing-line. There has been a cessation in the rainbow-hued forecasts of its high-priests. Seeing is still believing, and we are all ready aye, more than ready to see and to believe. But neither appears, right now, to be in the immediate offing, signaling for our attention. That one may "see" the Derby without being present in the body that day at Epsom is something that coming generations may achieve. That the present one will is a likelihood somewhat remote. Even to the optimists. However, things Tiave become so high-geared that, provided the pace is sustained, by the time television materializes, those in a hurry will demand same speedier device. Namely, one that will enable them fo see and hear the Derby before it has occurred! Of course, there have always been ways of doing so after a fashion. The augurs and haruspices have never been backward about performing their office. The only trouble has been that the actual result all-to-often failed to tally with the contents of the pink or blue, or green, or just plain yellow envelope which, for a stated price, one bought beforehand; the same being. warranted by an infallible soothsayer to contain the mystic name. Or if -one felt uncertain about that, there was always Madame Zin-gari, capable also for a price of reading in the cards, as she mysteriously manipulated em, just which was to "be who and why. If you feel inclined to smile at these statements, please remember this: That if all the money wagered on the names found in the pink, blue, green and yellow envelopes, togther with that wagered on those imparted by the tribe of Zingari, was to be stacked up in one big pile, it would, I fancy, be more than sufficient to settle the international debt question, balance the budgets of most treasuries and have enough left over to complete Boulder Dam and finish Muscle Shoals. Indeed, I will go still farther and affy that I havent a doubt of it! According to the most trustworthy figures before me as I write, Hyperion, the Derby winner of 1933, was a 10 1-2 to 1 shot. King Salmon, which finished second, was at 100 to 8, or 12 1-2 to 1. Statesman, which came third, was at 18 to 1. And oh, yes! -Manitoba, the favorite, at 4 to 1, finished far up the course. The announcer mentioned him repeatedly as the race progressed, and every time it was to assure the listening millions that he was far in the rear. Hyperion, the Derby winner, whose name the excited British announcer Britons are popularly supposed never to become excited only the excitable, not to say crazy, Yankees, have the call on that but, just the same, the Derby announcer not only said in a loud voice that he WAS excited his announcing proved it up to the hilt screamed out of my radio at me, is the property of Lord Derby. That peer who visited America three years ago to see Gallant Fox win-the Kentucky Derby, who won so many friends and admirers while he was with us, and who once before won the great event originated by and named for one of his ancestors. That having been in 1924, when he won with San-sovino. Sansovino was by Swynford Gondolette, by Loved One. Hyperion, the hero" of 1933, is by Gainsborough and Gondolette was his third dam. Godolette was bred to Minoru and produced Serenissima, an indifferent race mare, but a wonderful producer, for one of her foals was the great filly Tranquil, a classic winner of over 00,000, and another was Selene, a splendid race mare, if not a classic winner, whose credit is over 0,000. And Selene, when bred to Gainsborough, produced the 1933 Derby winner, Hyperion. Gainsborough also begot more winners last year in England than any other horse, their earnings approximating 60,000 and he has been near the top of the tree there every year for half-a-dozen. Moreover, he, himself won the Derby in 1915, also the 2,000 Guineas and the St. Leger, which constitute the far-famed Triple Crown the crowning achievement possible to a thoroughbred. Last year Gainsborough sent a son to the : post favorite for the Derby, this being the sensational Orwell. But Orwell collapsed : midway of the home stretch and finished ninth and thereby tons of money were left reposing in the benevolent bosoms of the : all-winter layers-of-odds. The downfall of Orwell last year has been ; handsomely made good by the triumph of j Gainsboroughs other son. Hynerion. this : : ; j time. There is a famous line in a famous play by the late W. Spokeshave, which, as I recall it, is all about "Hyperion to a satyr!" Whether Mr. Spokeshave had in mind this years Derby winner and last years Derby failure I dont know. Perhaps Lord Derby does.
