The movers and shakers arrived in hundreds of horsedrawn coaches, and the common people came in the thousands by rail or by foot. The destination was Jerome Park, a state-of-the-art racetrack on a 250-acre estate in Fordham, a few miles north of Manhattan. The occasion was the first running of the Belmont Stakes. It was a typical day in the big town, filled with gridlock and venom. One hundred thirty-four years later, not much has changed.

There was a nasty traffic jam on the way to the big event on that sunny Thursday afternoon in the late spring of 1867, and chaos stayed in control when the mob arrived at Leonard Jerome's showplace. Trains spewed forth thousands of racegoers at the Harlem Railroad terminal, only a short walk from the track. Many had swilled beer and booze on the ride up from Manhattan, and the alcohol helped fuel a dramatization of the class struggle.

The elite in their long line of swanky carriages made perfect targets for the wisecracks and insults from society's less fortunate. Undoubtedly, many of the elegantly attired rich ladies heard expressions with which they were unfamiliar. "Oh, these people," they must have said. "Just to be near them horrifies one."

That wasn't a problem for the pillars of society once they were inside the ultramodern track. The lower and middle classes parked themselves in the two-story grandstand that seated 8,000, while the elite hung out in a small stand that held 2,500 and accommodated members of the Jockey Club and their guests.

Jerome, who seven years later would become the maternal grandfather of Winston Churchill, had spared no expense to attract the wealthy to his horse playground. Luxury boxes were not an invention of the late 20th Century. Jerome Park had a clubhouse with a ballroom, private dining rooms and bedrooms where big shots could talk horses and relax with their mistresses. Long before full-card simulcasting, there was unlimited action at racetracks.

Jerome, a Wall Street financier, also was concerned with the average people. He laid out the track so that anyone who couldn't pay their way in could watch from surrounding hills. Think of it as an OTB with a view.

The feature race on June 19, 1867, was named for its sponsor, August Belmont, who along with Jerome was responsible for the rise of thoroughbred racing in New York after the Civil War. The first Belmont Stakes for 3-year-olds drew a field of only four, who ran 1 5/8 miles on a circular course with a hill in its infield. It took the bay filly Ruthless three minutes and five seconds to cross the finish line first on a gooey track that was rated "heavy" (muddy). The chart said she beat De Coursey "cleverly by a head."

The purse wasn't much, and betting on the race was almost nonexistent. The win was worth $1,850 to owner Francis Morris. Only $325 was wagered, $260 on Ruthless and her entrymate, Monday, who finished last. As so often happens in New York, you couldn't beat the overbet chalk.

Without Belmont's help, the sport would not have taken off in New York, and his son, August Jr., built the first Belmont Park in 1905. August Sr., a German immigrant who became one of the richest bankers in the United States, shared Jerome's love of the breed and his desire to run a first-class operation. Belmont also was a style-setter, art collector, political wheeler-dealer and on the 'A' list of any gathering that mattered. He became known as "The King of Fifth Avenue," and as one critic wrote: "People like Jerome and Belmont do not enter Society, they create it as they go along."

This ultimate honcho figured he was entitled to have anything he wanted, which included the trophy for his own race. He sat out the first Belmont, and his Magnet came in last of six the next year, 1868. Belmont wanted to win the third running in the worst way, which is how he pulled it off.

In 1869 Belmont owned two brilliant 3-year-old colts, Fenian and Glenelg. A few weeks before the race, word spread about a terrific workout by Glenelg, so he was made the favorite. Belmont wanted Fenian to win, however, and the great man's will was strong.

Both were entered in the third Belmont, which was run in abysmal conditions on a muddy track. Torrential rain and gale-force winds knocked down awnings in the Jerome Park grandstand, and the goings-on upon the racecourse were equally nasty. Glenelg's jockey restrained him as much as he could to give entrymate Fenian the best chance to win. That he did, with the frustrated Glenelg charging strongly to be second.

One observer wrote, "Glenelg's jockey almost had to pull his head off to let Fenian finish first." Other reports say Fenian won easily, "pulling up." Perhaps they were written by the track's PR people.

In any case, there was no stewards' inquiry. Hurray for the house horse! When you're The King of Fifth Avenue, you tend to get the breaks.