Pittsburg Phil

Pittsburg Phil proved to be the exception to the generally accepted wisdom that all horseplayers die broke.  Of course "Phil," or George E. Smith, might have died broke if he had been given more time on earth, but he died at what now would be the early age of 43.  It was 1905 and Pittsburg Phil succumbed to tuberculosis before his money ran out.  Thus, before the United States passed the 16th Amendment allowing income tax, there was an estimate that Phil was worth $2 million at his demise, making the $30,000 mausoleum that he is buried in North Pittsburgh's Uniondale cemetery a fitting tribute to a man who actually made money betting on the horses and who truly gave birth to what is now the modern age of handicapping.

I had never heard of Pittsburg Phil until this past Saturday's Daily Racing Form did an extensive story on Phil and his accomplishments in their weekend insert.  Yes, even the Daily Racing Form has a weekend section.

I mentioned Phil to a good friend of mine who cut his journalistic teeth working at a racing publication in the early 70s.  He was shocked I had never heard of Phil.  When he started at the racing paper he worked with a considerably older fellow, Howard Rowe, who was born in 1910.  Howie was so in awe and respectful of Phil's achievements that he had a picture of Phil above his desk.  Thus, in the early 1970s, Phil's legend was still so sufficiently alive in these working quarters that his picture graced an office wall like that of a president or a deity.

And after reading Ryan Goldberg's well-told story of Phil in the DRF, the upward look to Phil's visage was understandably deserved, certainly at least to someone whose interests were similar.

My friend and I still can get paper cuts from winning and losing tickets.  Howard Rowe has only recently passed away.  But Pittsburg Phil, who passed away 106 years ago, looks out in stone atop his grand mausoleum telling us all that we don't have to die broke.

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