![]() ![]() They tucked their Roosevelt dollars into Seabiscuit wallets, bought Seabiscuit hats on Fifth Avenue, played at least nine parlor games bearing his image. ![]() When he raced, his fans choked local roads, poured out of special cross-country “Seabiscuit Limited” trains, packed the hotels, and cleaned out the restaurants. In the latter half of the Depression, Seabiscuit was nothing short of a cultural icon in America, enjoying adulation so intense and broad-based that it transcended sport. It was an undersized, crooked-legged racehorse named Seabiscuit. The subject of the most newspaper column inches in 1938 wasn’t even a person. It wasn’t Pope Pius XI, nor was it Lou Gehrig, Howard Hughes, or Clark Gable. ![]() In 1938, near the end of a decade of monumental turmoil, the year’s number-one newsmaker1 was not Franklin Delano Roosevelt, Hitler, or Mussolini. “Nobody ever lives their life all the way up except bullfighters.” The Dingbustingest Contest You Ever Clapped an Eye On A Boot on One Foot, a Toe Tag on the Otherġ7. Charles Howard, Red Pollard, and Tom Smithĥ. ![]()
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