Illuminare Latest to Shine a Light on Centennial

If only Thomas Crown had been introduced to something like Centennial Farms, he might have spared himself a lot of trouble. As it was, the bored millionaire played by Steve McQueen in the 1968 classic sought his kicks from a bank heist, as an experiment in the perfect crime. And he instead confined his exposure to horses to the polo field.

But that was where the fictional adrenaline junkie encountered a father and son who would subsequently provide their clients, in real life, with all the excitement they could need on the racetrack. For the polo scene was shot at Myopia Hunt Club in Boston, then home terrain for Donald Little, Jr. and his late father, Donald, Sr., founder of Centennial.

Little would himself become a top-class polo professional, and McQueen spent several days in their company while learning the ropes.

“He came in every day for two weeks, got on one of our ponies and took lessons from the guy who ran our barn,” Little recalls. “And he actually wasn't bad at all. Anyway my dad and uncle were in that scene with him, though you only see Dad for about 30 seconds.”

The scene was innovatively edited so that the screen fractured into multiple, rotating frames of different size. And that, as it happens, is pretty much the formula developed by Little's father when starting Centennial in 1982. Over the years since, these pioneers of syndicate ownership have raided the bank vaults, and at rather less peril, with the likes of champion sprinter Rubiano, GI Belmont Stakes winner Colonial Affair and inaugural GI Breeders' Cup Dirt Mile scorer Corinthian. Last year a Centennial partnership briefly found itself on the Derby trail with the luckless Litigate (Blame), while the program's latest star is Illuminare (City of Light). Having twice impressed at Saratoga, the 3-year-old bounced back from a first defeat with a big number at Aqueduct earlier this month.

Long before that journey began, however, Little's father could have made even Mr. Crown feel rather pedestrian.

“Dad was the youngest strategic air pilot in the Korean War,” Little says. “Full captain at 19. He had his first racehorse when he was 16, and rode him on the farm in Ipswich, Mass, which we still have today as a retirement home for some of our Thoroughbreds. But then his whole family was adventurous. My grandmother rode steeplechasers, and there was a little sibling rivalry between Dad and his sister, Trish Moseley, who's still racing horses today. A few years ago she had [multiple GSW] Proctor's Ledge (Ghostzapper), whose daughter Proctor Street (Street Sense) won at Saratoga this summer.”

This is actually the family of Topsider, who was co-bred by Moseley's husband James. In other words, the Littles have long been immersed in horses of one kind or another. Tragically, that passion would ultimately prove fatal to Little's father, through an equestrian fall in 2012. But the very fact that he was still competing, at 77, measures the vitality that made him so formidable in everything he did.

His day job had been investment banking.

“But then he said, 'Why don't I start a little racing company with some of my buddies from Wall Street?'” recalls Little. “So he hired Dr. [Stephen] Carr, whom he knew from playing polo in Aiken, South Carolina, to look for the horses with Paula Parsons, who runs our farm in Virginia; and Allen Jerkens, to train them, again having got to know him through polo. Dad actually used the racing to help feed his investment business. The majority of his clients were people he'd met at the races and sales.”

Don Little | Susie Raisher

At the time, Dogwood was about the only competition for what has since become such a popular model for spreading risk in ownership. But in an unprecedented market, fueled by the Maktoums and others, the Centennial program was offering another way. With half a dozen investors, in 1983 they immediately found a colt from Danzig's first crop, Nordance, a stakes winner sold profitably to stand in Europe. They were on their way.

“But the biggest thing was the change in the tax laws in 1986,” Little recalls. “When we started, limited partnerships were the be-all and end-all for tax write-offs. Horses came into play because people didn't have to know anything about the business, didn't even need to enjoy the sport, because they could write it off. The good thing was that the horse partnerships were short term. We were able to survive a gap of about three years before all limited partnerships went out.”

Right around that time, in 1990, Little decided to make Centennial his post-polo professional focus. Hitherto fillies had been targeted, as offering some residual value.

“But I said, 'What do people really want from these horses?'” Little recalls. “They want to win the Derby, the Classic races. And to do that, we have to buy colts. So we went out to buy colts that people couldn't generally afford, on their own, as something we could take to horse people. They could use a portion of their horse budget for a piece, knowing they'd end up with stallion shares if successful. And, if they were actively involved in the business, they could also write off the expenses.”

The very first such partnership promptly found Colonial Affair.

“So that stuck,” Little says. “And ever since, every three to five years, we've managed to come up with a stallion. We've placed 14 horses at stud since 1990.”

Whether or not Illuminare or this year's GI Belmont Stakes runner Antiquarian (Preservationist) can make it 15, that's a pretty remarkable record from no more than eight yearlings from each crop.

Typically these are split across two partnerships, with 18-month expenses up front.

“There's no markup,” Little stresses. “And Centennial doesn't get equity, other than by putting in funds ourselves. We charge a management fee just like an investment manager, based on the insured value of the horse–which goes up and down, based on performance. Pretty simple. Otherwise we're just a partner like everybody else.”

With time, Centennial learned to prioritize intimacy of involvement. Rubiano had 70 owners. Typically, partnerships now have 10 to 12 players, their investment and confidence both facilitated by the program's cyclical nature. Core contributors include Peter Horvitz and Margaret O'Meara, who were longtime partners before becoming co-owners of the Middleburg farm and Centennial itself since Little, Sr.'s passing.

“It's not like some of these professional [sports] teams, where you can say, 'Oh, it's a rebuilding year,' and blow the whole system up,” Little remarks. “You can't do that in this business, at least from my perspective. You can modify here and there. Adjust to changes in the breeding industry, for instance. If people see so many Into Mischiefs at the top, it would be hard to tell them that we should wait till Book Six and find an athletic individual. But in the end what it all comes down to is loyalty, commitment, and a program that's worked for many, many years.

“And this isn't patting ourselves on the back, but the generational aspect helps make a story. It's the families in it for generations that have always maintained quality in the breed. Ask most people in this business, and they'll know who Centennial Farms are. Our reputation–open-book, honest, straightforward–precedes us. And that's very important.”

Antiquarian | Chelsea Durand

But however wholesome their brand, the Centennial team shares the industry's wider exposure to Main Street. Little is duly well placed to take the temperature.

“Well, HISA is a good move forward, in my opinion,” he says. “There will always be flaws, but it was something that needed to be done. Because to increase the fan base, get new people, young people, they need a good feeling about it. We know how the press creates negativity, that a catastrophic story will always get ahead of good news. Fox and NBC do a very good job with the back stories. What's happening at Belmont is terrific, and getting some of these professional athletes involved has been very helpful, too. But in the end it has to come from all of us that participate in this sport.”

For there's no knowing where that evangelism may take people, once persuaded to give the game a try. Little says that both Carl Icahn and the Go For Gin partners Bill Condren and Joe Cornacchia first sampled ownership through Centennial. In fact, Go For Gin was broken at the farm.

Having somewhere to raise the stock was central to the vision of Little's father.

“No other syndicate has ever been able to break and train its horses at its own farm,” Little says. “Our horses get an English-style foundation, which to me is crucial: building that skeletal structure. We don't push them, don't usually send 2-year-olds to the racetrack until early June.

“We're half-a-mile from the Middleburg Training Center, so they go there up and down the hill. There's a mental part to that, too: walking through the woods, they see deer, fox. And that's helpful for those that don't quite make it, because they can handle different things. We've a waiting list for our horses, because they're so easy to retrain, which must say something.”

The farm also allows Centennial to work with individual clients, for instance those that want a filly instead. Again, that's all relationships. Unsurprising, therefore, that one of their key arteries should remain the polo community.

“We're one of the lead sponsors at the National Polo Center,” Little says. “We had 300-plus people at a panel of Todd Pletcher, Johnny Velazquez, Julie Krone and Rajiv Maragh. Polo goes right back through the history of this sport: August Belmont, the Whitney family, the Vanderbilts, they all played. A lot of successful polo horses are Thoroughbreds, which have so much more speed and agility than other breeds. I used to ride a son of Topsider that my aunt gave me. And Peter Brant started his whole polo string by sending good mares to Argentina, to be bred strictly for polo.”

Brant happens to stop by as his old friend is talking with TDN, during the sales at Keeneland. And, coincidentally, it turns out that it was “The Thomas Crown Affair” that began his own, reverse exploration of the polo world from the Thoroughbred side. Brant had been lured to the filmset by another form of horsepower: the famous Ferrari being driven by McQueen. He managed to buy it for $11,800, only for his father to forbid him such a flashy automobile–either he got rid of it, or he could find someplace else to work. Brant dutifully sold the car for $11,000 to a collector. The loss of $800, over two weeks, pales next to the $26 million banked by the collector when selling the vehicle 10 years ago.

But the margin between these two equine worlds is full of such character, and friendships. When Little's father was stationed at an airbase near Tucson, Arizona, he found a nearby ranch with an indoor polo arena. And when Litigate broke out last year, it emerged that it was the father of co-breeder John Donaldson who had given Little, Sr. polo instruction out there, all those years ago. Moreover the wife of another co-breeder, Happy Broadbent, was best friends with Little's sister at college.

Which is just the kind of thing one should expect of a program like this. Because for all the expertise in management and selection, it depends first and foremost on the human connections forged through the horse.

“For us, it's all about consistency and drive, honesty and patience,” Little enthuses. “Typically 70% of Centennial partners are re-investors. Everybody knows each other, does things together. We had a little gathering, on Belmont eve, with the Antiquarian partners. We'll have a little backyard barbecue, everything casual, and everybody intermingles. No, we're not going to make it to the Derby every year. We don't have hundreds of horses. But what we say we're going to do, we do. And more than anything, this is a club. These people become friends.”