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The Dingbustingest Contest You Ever Clapped an Eye On 18. 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.

From 1936 to 1940, Seabiscuit endured a remarkable run of bad fortune, conspiracy, and injury to establish himself as one of history’s most extraordinary athletes.

For the Seabiscuit crew and for America, it was the beginning of five uproarious years of anguish and exultation.

And in 1940 after suffering severe injuries that were thought to have ended their careers, the aging horse and his jockey returned to the track together in an attempt to claim the one prize that had escaped them.

Along the way, the little horse and the men who rehabilitated him captured the American imagination.

His appearances smashed attendance records at nearly every major track and drew two of the three largest throngs ever to see a horse race in the United States.

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There was a certain inevitability to Charles Howard, an urgency radiating from him that made people believe that the world was always going to bend to his wishes.

He had tried to satisfy it by enlisting in the cavalry for the Spanish-American War, and though he became a skilled horseman, thanks to bad timing and dysentery he never got out of Camp Wheeler in Alabama.

It seems to have been a good life, but the East stifled Howard. His ambitions had fixed upon the vast new America on the other side of the Rockies.

He was twenty-six, handsome, gentlemanly, with a bounding imagination.

Back then he had a lot more hair than anyone who knew him later would have guessed.