109 



It has been said that in the stable of Col. Johnson there 

 was not a horse but had a claim to distinction. In any event, 

 he matched them with the greatest success for many years, 

 and the Northern people nearly always suffered by the 

 contests. 



A plunger must be a bundle of nerves and filled with 

 discrimination to the utmost degree. Col. Johnson was 

 more than this. He was always the urbane gentleman 

 under whatever circumstances he found himself. I have 

 said this about one of the greatest turfmen the world ever 

 produced for the reason that I knew him, knew his descend- 

 ants, respected and loved them, and I feel that I can not say 

 a word in this respect, paying a tribute to one of Nature's 

 noblemen, that would be an untruth. 



James McLaughlin, of New Orleans, was one of the 

 heaviest bettors in the South during his time. When he 

 thought he had a chance he was always willing to take it. 

 He wagered thousands on a single race, and whether he won 

 or lost he never lost his temper. Then there was Charles 

 Riley, from New York. He was as game a sport as ever 

 opened a bottle of wine after making a big winning, and he 

 was opening them all the time. Riley started South after 

 every big meeting in the fall and spent his summers in the 

 land where the cool and inviting palmetto holds out its 

 inviting shade and where the soft winds of the Gulf Stream 

 fan the fevered brow. 



One of the prettiest stories connected with plunging on 

 the turf is the history of Charles, better known as " Riley," 

 Grannan. He was born near Lexington, in the State of 

 Kentucky, and received hut a meager education. When his 

 father's farm was mortgaged, and he had tried in vain to 

 secure employment in the county, he packed up his few 

 belongings and went to Louisville. Grannan had been a 

 never-do-well and he had learned no trade. His parents 

 had permitted him to grow up around the stables and his 

 mind was filled with the doings of horses instead of the 

 doings of men. 



He cared no more for history at least that part of it 

 that relates to the human family than does a wild animal 

 about the Ten Commandments. He just grew up wild 

 like Topsy in the play of " Uncle Tom's Cabin." But 



