Strike Two

Superstitious, nervous spinsters bank on the old adage that lightning never strikes twice in the same place. Superstitious, nervy gamblers bank on the chance that bad luck will also scatter its bolts. Last week both lightning and luck struck with tragic redundance:

P: Back in 1913, a young undertaker named John A. Maxwell played golf with two companions on the Raritan Valley Country Club course, Somerville, N. J. As they approached the tenth green, a thunderstorm broke. A forked tongue of lightning licked the fairway, kicked all three players on to their backs, ripped one golf bag down the middle. None of the players was injured. Last week, on the same fairway of the same golf course, in the corresponding week of the corresponding month, at the same time of day (about 3:15 p.m.) Golfer Maxwell was struck down and killed by lightning.

P: Back in 1919, a young racehorse who was destined to be great, Man o' War, was led to the barrier for the annual Sanford Memorial Stakes at Saratoga Springs, N. Y. When the starting signal was given, Man o' War was facing in the opposite direction from his rivals. That was the only race Man o' War ever lost. The horse which beat him was named Upset. Since that day race fans have thought of the Sanford Memorial as the race in which Man o' War was licked by bad luck.

Last week another young racehorse which racegoers thought destined to be great was led to the Saratoga barrier for another Sanford Memorial. This comer was Mrs. Charles Shipman Payson's Thingumabob, a two-year-old. He had run away with his two previous starts this season, had become the highest juvenile money-earner of the year ($31,810) by winning the rich Arlington Futurity. For the Sanford he was such a favorite that his odds, 1-to-4, were the shortest quoted all season at Saratoga.

At the start Thingumabob bobbled. He was way back in seventh place at the end of the first sixteenth. Then he began to move up. At the end of the first furlong he was in second place, coming up in an open switch on the inside of Ariel Toy, the pacemaker. Suddenly Ariel Toy closed the switch by cutting towards the rail. Thingumabob reared, then crumpled. His right front ankle had snapped above the fetlock. He limped to the outside fence, fell to his knees, gallantly lifted himself to his feet again as the track veterinarian shot him dead.

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