Mindful still of the war time, but mindful more of the play time—of Kentucky’s great play day of the May time—35,000 citizens of everywhere came from the high and low places of earth to-day to make Derby Day in Louisville what Derby Day always had been.

When a Maytime sun flushes the bluegrass of Churchill Downs, dapples the satin coats of thoroughbreds and touches to brilliancy the brave green and gold of paddock, lawn and infield, when a hawthornscented breeze, straight from the wooded hills of Jacob Park, ripples the gleaming folds of “Old Glory,” when Senators and Governors, multi-millionaires and internationally famous beauties foregather for the running of the Derby, when the motion picture cameras are licking, when the bands are playing, and the bugles sounding “Boots and Saddles,” it is time to heed Omar’s advice:

“Come, fill the cup, and in the fire of spring
Your winter garment of repentance fling!”

There were, indeed, no “winter garments of repentance” in evidence at the Down to-day but instead such Far Eastern colors, such vivid touches of Chinese red and jade green, such oriental embroideries, such swirling military capes and coats that had their inspiration in the army as to convert the Downs into a picture that suggested some vast canvas by Velasquez.

The wise man who once declared that “four things greater than all things are: Women and horses and power and war” would have found his dictum translated into living proof to-day, for added to the beauty of the women who graced the Downs, added to the fleetness of the satin-coated horses, and the power that is Kentucky, there was the suggestion of patriotism that can only translate itself in war. The olive-drab of the First Kentucky Infantry formed a fitting background for the striking picture presented by clubhouse lawn, verandas and boxes. “Old Glory” rippled and fluttered and the notes of the bugle stirred the immense throng to one single impulse of patriotism. The feeling that if fate should decree that on the next Derby days some of “our boys” should be in France, and nearer Longchamps than Churchill Downs, that Kentucky will be sure to “place a wager for them” instead of “turning down an empty glass,” was everywhere expressed.Meanwhile, it seemed that “the loveliest, and the best” of Louisville, of Kentucky, and of the nation, were “star-scattered on the grass” of the clubhouse. In fact, the Rubaiyat of the Kentucky Derby was written to-day, and the chestnut-coated, satin-smooth Omar Khayyam won no less in the clubhouse than on the race course for everywhere the Far Eastern, the Persian, the Oriental touch was in evidence. There were Arab coats, pongees, and tussahs, silks of Oriental weave, and fabrics that were dyed in the self-same tints, and embroidered in the self-same designs and motifs as those that greeted the eyes of Omar Khayyam centuries ago.

Automobiles in a long line that narrowed close to the course and bore thousands from all quarters of the city filled all the inclosures and the open spaces near the park. Street cars, embracing nearly all the emergency equipment of the railway company, ran in an almost continuous line, southbound, for several hours on Fourth street. Many lovers of the sport and the occasion took the footpaths for the exercise.

At any rate, 1:30 o’clock found no less than 30,000 persons within Churchill Downs. It found them likewise at attention as a body of soldiers, led by a soldier band, marched in from the north gate, drawing up before a large flagstaff in the center of the infield.

When 30,000 persons are of one mind, and are gathered in silence in one place, there is eloquence in the air. The very breeze gives a thrill. When the Star Spangled Banner and a Kentucky Derby in wartime are turned loose on such a vast gathering of Americans the heart thumps mightily. In that gathering were men who have seen the ravages of war and men who expect to feel its blight; men in the khaki and men hoping soon to don it. And so, when the regiment boys burst into the anthem as a large flag was raised along with two smaller ones, the crowd rose, held its silence until the band ceased, and then broke into a mighty cheer.

It was nearly 5 o’clock when the bugle sounded calling the horses to the post. The long procession of fifteen, led by the outrider on a gray horse, garbed in a fiery red jacket, made an imposing picture. The gay silks of the jockeys, with the verdant infield for a background, handed just the right touch of color to the scene. Down past the grandstand and clubhouse they pranced, and here they were all given cheers. It takes Kentucky racing audiences to grow enthusiastic, and they know how to do it. On the way to the post Ticket, the favorite, was the most nervous one of the lot, prancing and dancing throughout the stretch. All others were a well behaved lot.

It took the starter four minutes to get them in alignment, and then the grand old shout of “They’re off!” shot out from the grandstand and was spent on the distant green hills.

Ticket dashed into the lead, but Stargazer soon assumed command, with Berlin forcing the pace at his side. They swept past the grandstand at a stirring clip, the field strung out as the riders jockeyed for positions. On went Stargazer, his dazzling pace tearing at the hearts of those who attempted to follow it. Berlin curled up from the effort and dropped back, beaten, as the band sped up the back stretch. Ticket still held on and it was plain that he was the horse the winner would have to beat.

As they rounded the turn by the old clubhouse Rickety made his move. He seemed to have the speed of his party and rapidly mowed down his opposition. At the quarter pole Rickety flashed in front, but it was only for an instant. He appeared to suddenly weaken and Ticket headed the procession.

Meanwhile one of the cleverest riders in America was nestling low over the neck of a big chestnut colt. As the field passed the grandstand the first time he was in tenth place. There he continued around the curve and into the back stretch. Out in front he could see the flying leaders, but his mount was running smoothly, and as they passed the half mile pole he noticed he was shortening the distance that he must make up. He was satisfied with his position. But suddenly every hope was threatened. He was borne over against the rail and his mount was knocked off his stride. But Borel did not despair. He took back until the way was clear and passed the mile mark in sixth place.

The flying leaders swung a trifle wide into the stretch and left an opening on the rail. Borel did not hesitate. Along the white fence he took Omar. In a couple of jumps his mount was at Ticket’s rump. Steadily he moved toward the front, past saddle girth and withers. He soon was stretching fiery nostrils alongside the bay colt’s neck, and then Omar Khayyam’s blaze face showed in front, and in the last hundred yards commenced to draw away and swept under the wire winner by two lengths.

The Kentucky Derby; one mile and a quarter; for three-year olds; purse, $15,000 added; net value to the winner, $16,600; $2,500 to second, $1,000 to third, $275 to fourth. Fractional Time—0:23?, 0:47?, 1:12?, 1:38, 2:04?.

The $2 mutuels paid: Omar Khayyam, straight $27.60, place $10.90, show $6.20; Ticket, place $3.70, show $2.80; Midway, show $5.10.

Omar Khayyam was bred in England by Sir John Robinson and J. T. Farr and was purchased by his present trainer, Charles T. Patterson for C. K. G. Billings and Frederick Johnson at Newmarket, September 15, 1915, for $1,500. Omar Khayyam’s sire Marco won the Cambridgeshire, etc., and is the sire of Neil Gow, Beppo, Marcovil, Malua, Bembo, Mirador, Sansovino, and other good horses.

Omar Khayyam, named for the great Persian poet and astronomer, is the first foreign-bred colt to win a Kentucky Derby. His owners are Frederick Johnson, a broker, in New York and C. K. G. Billings, owner of the famous trotters Uhlan, Lou Dillon and Major Delmar and it is his second season as a thoroughbred owner. Mr. Johnson saw his colt win but Mr. Billings was unable to enjoy seeing the victory.

Trainer C. T. Patterson said before the race: “I never trained a horse in which I had more confidence than Omar Khayyam, and I handled Hamburg and Ornament.”