Remembering My Grandfather, Christopher T. Chenery, by Kate Tweedy
January 3, 2025
Chris Chenery, my grandfather, died on Jan 3, 1973, at age 86, at the hospital in Westchester County, NY, where he had been for several years. His death was expected but devastating to his family. Within a few days, all the Chenerys had gathered at the Meadow in Virginia to say goodbye.
The night before his burial, we awoke to find a beautiful ten inches of snow blanketing the pastures. The road department got out early to plow the route and the state patrol accompanied the cortege, lights flashing, as much of the communities of Dawn, Doswell and Ashland turned out to pay their respects to the man who had done so much for his community and who had put the region on the national map.
His burial service at St. James the Less in Ashland was followed by a private burial at Woodland Cemetery where he lies beside the graves of his parents, and since 2017, his daughter Penny.
Chris Chenery was a visionary financier and horseman and a generous and proud Virginian. He made a fortune in New York as a utilities magnate, which he shared freely with many causes, local and national. His greatest achievement, however, came from his passion for horses.
His deep study of thoroughbred breeding created a stable whose bloodlines and mares, rather than stallions, were esteemed nationwide. That is why, in 1966, Ogden Phipps, owner of Bold Ruler who was then the best stallion in America, inked a six-year foal-sharing contract with Granddad—Phipps coveted the offspring of the Meadow mares. The two canny old horsemen agreed that Granddad would send two mares each year to be bred to Bold Ruler and they would flip for the resulting foals. This deal gave us several stakes winners, including Syrian Sea, a full sister to Secretariat, and Virginia Delegate. But the deal wasn’t as profitable for the Meadow as it was for the Phippses.
As Granddad grew more senile and Mom undertook to run the stable and farm, she began to fret about the riskiness of a coin toss, worrying that her siblings would blame her for repeated losses. So she renegotiated the deal to even out the risk, and starting in 1968, the loser of the toss one year got first choice the following year.
In 1969, we lost the toss. In 1970, one of our mares, Cicada, was barren, but Somethingroyal gave birth to a stunning chestnut foal whose size and color made the farm manager Howard Gentry gasp on first seeing him: “He’s a whopper!” he said, a quote for the ages. Secretariat became Granddad’s greatest achievement.
Granddad was a tall and vigorous man with bright blue eyes and a booming voice. He loved horses and his family. He was sharp, funny, and egalitarian. We remember Granddad for Secretariat, for The Meadow, for his many other great horses, and for his love of his home state and town, Ashland, Virginia. He left a legacy that will never be matched.
©Kate Tweedy
