Did Harry Kaplan and not Bob Coglianese take the famous photo of Secretariat at the finish line of the 1973 Belmont Stakes?
It is very possible and likely probable given photographers hired assistant photographers on jobs requiring multiple camera setups.
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Speaking of Team Secretariat, here is a 2013 segment from 60 Minutes:
Today it was announced that Canadian-born jockey Ron Turcotte, 84, best known for having piloted Secretariat in the legendary 1973 Triple Crown series, died early today at his home in New Brunswick, Canada. Turcotte, who was one of 12 children, with five of the boys having become jockeys though none of the others were as successful as he, first came to prominence as a jockey in the 1960s, with his first winner in the classics being Tom Rolfe, the winner of the 1965 Preakness. A few years later, owner and breeder Penny Chenery of Meadow Farm hired Turcotte to ride Riva Ridge, and together they won the 1972 Kentucky Derby and Belmont. Of course, Turcotte gained international fame as the jockey of the first Triple Crown winner in 25 years and the greatest racehorse ever to step foot on a racetrack, Secretariat. Turcotte had the easiest job of his life riding Red, for the horse did it all. Turcotte simply sat on him. He rode Secretariat from his third start through the Man O'War Stakes in 1973. He had been suspended and couldn't ride Secretariat in his final start, the Canadian International. Eddie Maple substituted for Ron in that race.
Turcotte loved to talk about Secretariat. He probably knew the horse better than anybody else who was associated with him during his racing career. Five or six years ago, he published a series of articles for the official Secretariat webpage called "Turcotte Tuesday" discussing his career and his most famous horse. He could be found on various Secretariat Facebook fan pages engaging in conversations with fans about the horse.
His riding career ended in a 1978 accident where a horse stumbled at the starting gate and threw Turcotte. He wound up paralyzed from the waist down and confined to a wheelchair for the rest of his life. He was in a great deal of pain and faced life-threatening infections over the years. These setbacks didn't stop him at all. He traveled a great deal, attending signing events, giving interviews, and even attending a few Triple Crown races in person. He also raised money for injured jockeys.
With Turcotte's death, an era has ended. All the people who were directly involved in the racing career of Secretariat, including the champion himself, of course, have passed away. Penny Chenery, the owner and breeder; Lucien Laurin, trainer; Turcotte, jockey; exercise riders Jim Gaffney and Charlie Davis; and groom Eddie Sweat are all gone now. Turcotte was the last living connection to Team Secretariat.
“He was a superstrong horse, superintelligent — you name it, he had it,” Turcotte told The New York Times in 2013. “He was great every which way you can think of. There’s nothing that any horse had over him. Every time he was right, he never got beat.”
Ronald Joseph Morel Turcotte was born on July 22, 1941, in Drummond, New Brunswick, where his father, Albert, worked as a lumberjack. His mother, Rose (Devost) Turcotte, stayed home raising their 12 children, of whom Ron was the third, in a farmhouse with no central heating or running water. The family spoke French at home.
At 14, Ron dropped out of school to work alongside his father. Because he was too small to wield an ax or saw — he stood 5-foot-1 and weighed 130 pounds — he was put in charge of the horses that hauled the timber out of the forest, valuable training for his future profession.
The big obit of today was politician-turned-infamous talk show host Jerry Springer, 79, who died after a short bout with pancreatic cancer. He was once mayor of Cincinnati, but then he discovered there was much more fame and fortune to make in trash TV than in politics. His talk show ran for 27 years before it ended in 2018. It lasted way longer than shows with Geraldo Rivera or Morton Downey, Jr., the latter who didn't last that long literally.
Snip:
Gerald Norman Springer was born Feb. 13, 1944, in a London underground railway station being used as a bomb shelter. His parents, Richard and Margot, were German Jews who fled to England during the Holocaust, in which other relatives were killed in Nazi gas chambers. They arrived in the United States when their son was 5 and settled in the Queens borough of New York City, where Springer got his first Yankees baseball gear on his way to becoming a lifelong fan.
He studied political science at Tulane University and got a law degree from Northwestern University. He was active in politics much of his adult life, mulling a run for governor of Ohio as recently as 2017.
He entered the arena as an aide in Robert F. Kennedy’s ill-fated 1968 presidential campaign. Springer, working for a Cincinnati law firm, ran unsuccessfully for Congress in 1970 before being elected to city council in 1971.
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Later, her husband, Roy Bryant, and J.W. Milam, took Emmett from his bed and ordered him into the back of a pickup truck and beat him before shooting him in the head and tossing his body into the Tallahatchie River. They were both acquitted of murder by an all-White jury following a trial in which Carolyn Bryant testified that Emmett grabbed and verbally threatened her.
Milam, who died in 1980, and Bryant, who died in 1994, admitted to the killing in a 1956 interview with Look magazine.
In 2007, a Mississippi grand jury declined to indict Donham on any charges.
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Turcotte credits his wife, Gaetane, and his daughters for treating him like "nothing happened to me — like I was the same man I was when I was riding." Lynn Turcotte has tried to get her father to slow down in his old age, but he tells her he'll keep going for Big Red, the horse with a supersized heart.
"He said, 'Secretariat was so good to me, the least I can do is let his memory and legacy live on,'" Lynn Turcotte said. "That's why he does what he does."
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Ask those who rode against him.
"Greatest horse I ever saw," said Laffit Pincay Jr., still racing at age 51.
"I watched his tail a lot of times," said Angel Cordero Jr., a member of the National Jockeys Hall of Fame. "I feel honored to have been whipped by Secretariat. It's like getting your butt beat by Muhammad Ali."
Twenty-five years later, Braulio Baeza can still hear the hooves crashing past as Big Red churned by him in the Belmont.
And then the horse just vanished. Baeza's mount ran second that day, losing by the length of a football field.
"By the time my horse got to where Secretariat had been, the dust had already settled," said Baeza, another Hall of Famer. "Beat him? Only with a jet."
Far back, Cordero, Baeza and their mounts struggled to stay within camera range. Cordero actually believed they were gaining on the leader.
"Every time I looked up, Secretariat looked smaller and smaller, which is what happens when a horse gets tired -- he looks scrunched up," Cordero said. "So I'd yell over to Baeza, 'We're getting close -- look how little he is.' "
At the sixteenth-pole, Baeza shouted back: "Forget it. He just finished the race."
Anderson, of course, was blessed with a great event. No horse had won the Triple Crown in 25 years when Secretariat made his bid on June 9, 1973, and the anticipation was feverish.
But Anderson didn't exploit it. He never got overwrought or wordy. He let the tone and timbre of his voice - not its volume - convey the excitement. Even if you'd never seen a horse race, you'd have sensed this was something special.
When the gate opened that afternoon, there was a slight edge to Anderson's voice as he noted how Secretariat had grabbed good position along the rail. Eventually the legendary horse and rival Sham pulled away from the small field and Anderson suggested it had become "almost a match race."
Then, as the two leaders neared the backside turn, Secretariat began to open a gap. Anderson's voice lifted an octave or two as he commenced the concluding half of what still remains the best sporting event I've ever witnessed, live or on TV.
Q. What made Secretariat so special?_____
CHENERY What made him so special was that physically, he had no flaws. His conformation was about perfect. He got more out of his stride and was very well balanced. He didn’t get tired; he responded to it.
TURCOTTE He was a superstrong horse, superintelligent, you name it, he had it. He was great every which way you can think of. There’s nothing that any horse had over him. Every time he was right, he never got beat. He ran a couple times when he shouldn’t have run, and that’s how he got beat.
As his exercise rider, Davies rode Secretariat throughout the week heading into Belmont and saw a horse that was ready to take on the small field in that race and set the pace early. He remembers sitting with the other exercise riders, on their mounts, watching the race and he knew that the early push out of the gate was no fluke._____
It was an improbable margin set by Secretariat at the first turn but even as others shook their heads, doubting that the horse could sustain it, Davies knew better. He remembers leaning over and telling one of the other exercise riders that he "knew it was all over. I knew it, it was all over. Fellas, he’s just cruising now.”
It was a premonition from a week’s worth of morning workouts that gave Davies such confidence.
“People ask me ‘How do you know he was going to win the Belmont?’ Well, he was training stronger and stronger each day,” Davies said. “Me and Secretariat, we had a bond. He watched my back, I watched his. He was telling me ‘I’ve got this.’ He sure did.”
Here are a few pictures I took at Crater Lake National Park in southern Oregon today, including a couple of them from the historic lodge:
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