Ron Turcotte: A Great Man

Ron Turcotte: A Great Man

By Leonard Lusky

 

The world has lost a great man. Ron Turcotte, the Hall of Fame jockey of Secretariat, passed away on Friday at the age of 84.

For many, Ron’s passing represents the end of an era. He was the last of Secretariat’s mighty Meadow Stable’s primary team, alongside owner Penny Chenery, trainer Lucien Laurin, groom Eddie Sweat, and exercise riders Charlie Davis and Jim Gaffney. They are all gone now, the court of racing royalty in this equine Camelot.

And while I and countless others mourn this latest loss to the sport of Thoroughbred racing, I also grieve the loss of my friend.

When I first met Ron in 1998, I only knew of him through my treasured dog-eared books and magazines recounting the amazing racing feats of that glorious 1973 Triple Crown that was inextricably embedded in my youth.

In the more than two decades since, I had the good fortune to accompany Ron to various venues, organizing appearances and signing events. In our travels to racetracks across the country, I always relished the time I spent with him, soaking up the history and stories he shared about each of these special places. It was amazing to see the outpouring of emotion and happiness he elicited from those who had the opportunity to meet him.

Typically, after a long day of set-up and signing, Ron and the Secretariat.com crew would go out for dinner. Ron was renowned for his questionable preferences in cuisine and invariably we would end up at the most remote restaurant or dubious diner, no matter which racetrack we were near. But whatever the menu lacked in these culinary adventures was always more than compensated by the camaraderie and endless laughter that ensued through the evening. Those are the moments I remember best and will cherish the most.

It may seem odd to think that a man confined to a wheelchair could possess a quiet but unmistakable swagger, but Ron had it in spades. I was privy to being introduced to many of Ron’s closest friends and fellow former riders, and there was always a respect he commanded among his peers. Perhaps in part it came from the 3,032 career victories that he amassed navigating a racetrack. But just as much, they saw how he navigated life.

His athletic achievements and awards are only part of his story. In 1978, at the age of 36, he faced a jockey’s worst fear when he was paralyzed in a racing spill which would confine him to wheelchair for more than half his life. Though his body had been broken and he was forced to suffer the indignities only those who have a disability can truly recognize, he always remained proud, strong and resilient.

His optimism and good nature were unwavering, even under the most trying of circumstances. He never harbored even a hint of bitterness and never once complained about his circumstances. When asked about his regrets or the misfortune of being hurt in the spill, Ron would genuinely reply, “I have to be one of the luckiest men on earth — I rode Secretariat.”

For each new generation of riders that dared to dream they might ride a horse like Secretariat, Ron was their benchmark and a living legend. At every track, Ron made it a point to visit the jocks’ room, a place where he was in his true element, providing words of encouragement or offering the wisdom of his experience — and he did it with a smile and a warmth that was genuine and shared willingly.

I watched how he contributed to the betterment of the sport, assisting those in need and donating his time and appearance fees to the Permanently Disabled Jockeys Fund and numerous other organizations.

This kindness and generosity permeated every aspect of his life and everyone who had the good fortune to meet him.

For nearly a quarter of a century, I got to observe this man and forge an eternal friendship.

I saw the importance he placed upon family. This included my own — the joy he expressed welcoming my young boys into the world, and all of my children into his heart.

I felt his pride in keeping Secretariat’s memory alive and keeping the Big Red flame burning, an obligation he thoroughly enjoyed and honored until the end of his days.

I watched how he always tried to be available to the racing community, and accessible to fans whom he considered the lifeblood of the sport.

I witnessed how he would sign autographs for hours on end until his shoulder throbbed and his hands were raw. I saw him push through the pain he endured in private, in order to not disappoint the general public.

I saw his unassailable faith that was every bit as much a part of his DNA as his God-given gifts of strength and determination.

I saw his humor and his heartache, and his willingness to share both.

I saw how this man embraced life and life embraced him.

Yes, I had the privilege to know this man who was filled with kindness, faith and love.

And if the measure of a man’s life is determined by how much he loves, or how much he is loved by others… then either way, Ron Turcotte was a great man.

~ Leonard Lusky, Secretariat.com – Aug. 23, 2025