The Hungarian Breed
Historical
Horses
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Yearling
foals in pasture at the Cooksley Ranch -all by the stallion
H. Taltos.
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The
story of these horses begins back in Hungary in an era when horses
were considered part of a country’s national treasure. In
times of war, the breeding stock from the national Stud Farms was
displaced in order to save them from destruction or capture. One
link in the long saga was the rescuing of Hungarian horses, along
with the Lippizaners, by General Patton from what was to be the
Russian zone. |
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Once these horses arrived in Occupied
Germany, a group of them was selected by Colonel Hamilton, Chief
of the US Remount Service, to be sent to the United States to
improve the breeding stock in the US Army Remount Breeding program.
In 1949, the Remount Program was disbanded and again, if it wasn’t
for some quick action on the part of Countess Margit Sigray-Bessenyey,
the Cooksleys, and Jim Edwards, these horses might have been lost.
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H. Nicsak (H. Kallo x Furioso II-3) and Linda
Tellington who rode many Hungarians.
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| Through
incredible effort, in a story that films are made of, Countess
Judith Gyurky (who had been an international jumper/rider)
fled her estate in Hungary with 64 horses, 17 carts of feed,
and a cart for foals, just ahead of the invading Russian
Army. In spite of great tragedy and loss, the iron-willed
Countess Gyurky managed to bring a small breeding group
of these horses to the United States. They provided an outcross
for the group brought by the Army.
Another major
contribution to the bloodlines occurred when Countess
Margit Sigray-Bessenyey, in the early 1960s purchased
a group of Hungarian horses which wealthy industrialist
Temple Smith (famous for his importation of Lippizaner
horses) had imported earlier from Hungary. There were
other minor importations of horses. Some of these were
included in the registry as well if their bloodlines could
be verified.
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IN MEMORY OF MARGIT
It is the greatest honor and privilege to be
here at the Daly Mansion to remember COUNTESS MARGIT SIGRAY
BESSENYEY. First of all, I wish to recognize Count Francis Bessenyey
and to thank him greatly for making this event possible. Also,
I would like to especially thank the wonderfully dedicated volunteers
of the Marcus Daly Mansion. To be standing to the right of the
Daly Mansion next to the Mansion pool is a most fitting setting
for this talk.
It was in
l954 that my eight-and-a-half--year-old brother Otto and I (then
six years old) first came to this pool--invited by the gracious
COUNTESS. Our first day at the Daly Mansion pool was bright
and sunny. The weather was perfect, with blue skies and puffy
white clouds and a cool soft breeze.
My mother,
Countess Gabrielle Szirmay Szechenyi, and my brother Otto opened
the small white gate, leading to the pool. My mother closed
it securely and we entered the patio around the pool.
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Related Links and Resources
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Countess
Margit Bessenyey and Brownie
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We placed our towels
on the warm cement and tested the water. It was very inviting. Otto
dove right in. Then I went in carefully--descending the ladder. The
water was divine. It was crystal clear, very cold, and extremely well
worth the descent from the ladder. We quickly got accustomed to swimming,
diving, and playing with the water toys Margit had given us. She also
gave us our first cowboy hats--which we were wearing when we entered
the pool gate. They were red. We didn't want to leave the pool, but
the weather was getting cooler and the sun was settling. We returned
to the little guest house where we changed for dinner. My parents stayed
at the larger guest house on Tammany Hill. My father, Count Ernest Szechenyi,
who was the lucky and privileged employee of the Countess, met us before
dinner at Tammany.
Mrs. Unrue, a darling,
kind, capable woman who baked absolutely the best bread I have ever
eaten to this day, waited for Margit to arrive. The Countess arrived
in a 1954 green Chevrolet. When Margit came, the adults conversed and
drank scotch and sodas, while my brother and I had some of that great
crystal cool water. I still remember what we ate for dinner: steak,
scalloped potatoes, and peas. The steak was so huge that my mother had
to cut it up before we could eat it. But, we would never begin eating
until after the Countess had the first morsel. There was a beautiful
western painting of horses on the dining room wall.
COUNTESS MARGIT
BESSENYEY MUST BE REMEMBERED NOT ONLY AS THE COUNTESS OF THE BEAUTIFUL
BITTERROOT VALLEY BUT AS THE ONLY QUEEN OF WESTERN MONTANA.
For my brother
Otto and me, 1954 was a time of innocence. The Bitterroot Stock Farm
seemed infinitely large to two young boys! Crossing the
many clear, rapidly gushing creeks was remarkable. Seeing the noble,
majestic Hungarian thoroughbreds was truly and positively unforgettable!
There were also many, many Hereford cattle and sheep.
One day I can vividly
remember going up Tammany Lane with my brother--perched two stories
high on a hay wagon guided by a true, honest cowboy named Vernon Jenkins.
Of, course Otto and I were wearing our red cowboy hats and were armed
with our play-belt pistols. The view from the Tammany Hill guest house
was spectacular! One could see Blodgett Canyon, and several times there
were rainbows in the canyon area. The forested, granite Bitterroots
to the west seemed high and mighty. To the right of the Countess's guest
house facing west was the Fullerton House, which still exists today.
At this time I
would like to ask Mrs. Theo Fullerton to stand up, and I want to personally
thank her and her family for their graciousness and
loving kindness to our family.There was a hole on the east side of Mrs.
Fullerton's fence through which Otto, the dogs, and I could communicate
with the Fullertons. We traversed this path many times on our way to
a sandbox. There we were met by Mr. THEO FULLERTON who was in the United
States Navy and served last in Okinawa, Japan. We were spoiled by the
Fullertons as we played and had a great time with their sons, BUTCH,
DOUG, NICK and DAVE. We had many friendly exchanges in and out of that
sandbox. I also remember the great bath tubs in the guest house. They
were formidable, to say the least! I heard my father say that they were
his favorite bathtubs. In truth I had seen them earlier in Chester,
NH at the house of descendants of the Vanderbilt family. So, I guess
the Vanderbilts had been responsible for transplanting that style of
tub to Montana.
Our family spent
the entire summer in Hamilton and finally left from the local train
station. Margit kindly took us down to the station in her l954 Chevy.
I was so impressed by that car. The front window had a dividing horizontal
bar. I was terribly proud to be tall enough to see through that windshield
very well! The (to me) enormous blue-white Northern Pacific RR train
stopped at the Hamilton Depot and my mother, Otto and I sadly said our
temporary goodbyes.
Margit was the
daughter of COUNT ANTHONY SIGRAY and HARRIET DALY. Harriet, or Hattie,
was the daughter of MARCUS DALY. Margit, a direct heir to the Daly mansion
and to the Bitterroot Stock Farm, bought out her relatives and became
the sole owner. Margit escaped from Hungry at the end of World War II.
Because her mother was an American, Margit was allowed to enter the
USA soon after her escape. Some time later, she learned that the U.
S. Cavalry was going to disband its horses-including the Hungarian ones
captured in Europe. Margit arranged to buy eight lovely mares and this
is how the Hungarian Horses wound up in Hamilton, Montana. Margit became
an active and supportive member of the Hamilton community. She gave
land to the humane society and organized the Bitterroot Trail Ride on
the Bitterroot
Stock Farm.
Margit knew me
before I knew her. I say this because Margit played an integral part
in my family's successful escape from Communist Hungary shortly before
I was born. Margit had been my mother's best friend in their youthful
years in Hungary. Like my father, Margit had always loved
horses.
My father was the
epitome of the equestrian, having grown up on horseback and having served
as a Hungarian Hussar Officer. He was a member of the HONOR GUARD of
Hungary's Regent, Admiral Horthy. Margit employed my father not only
because of her long-time friendship with my parents but also because
of his expertise with horses. I recall the day we drove up to one of
the Hungarian horses on the hill in Chapman's Landing-Margit's farm
on the Potomac--located in Maryland. To my greatest amazement, the horse
stood at rigid attention until the Hungarian hymnus was finished being
sung.
My father fought
in the last cavalry charge on the Russian front, and was captured near
the Don River in Ukraine, along with l0,000 other prisoners of whom
only 100 were eventually released. They were transported back to a prison
camp in Eastern Hungary. The family heard about his presence there and
Irma, his sister, camouflaged as a peasant, went near the camp and saw
him alive inside the fence. My mother made and sent him his favorite
chocolate cake to let him know that she knew where he was. In answer
to my Mother's and Otto's prayers, about a year later my father was
finally released from the Communist political prison. After a difficult
journey, he made it to Budapest for a very happy reunion with our family.
Later my father was exuberant to know that my mother was expecting her
second child -- me.
My parents were
under constant surveillance by the AVO, the Hungarian Communist secret
police. Knowing the serious danger of being
imprisoned again, my parents decided on a plan to escape from the country.
They staged an argument on the street in front of their apartment -
for the benefit of the secret police--and went their separate ways.
My mother and little
Otto left by a hired car while my father, faking tuberculosis and pulmonary
coughing, took a train. Using fake papers, they were able to cross the
border to Bratislava, Czechoslovakia from where they planned to make
their clandestine entry into Austria. A hired
guide led them towards the nearby border at night while being pursued
by the secret police. Watchtowers and border guards were everywhere.
They would shoot immediately if they detected anyone trying to cross
that border. My parents' guide was shot in the back and killed-right
in front of them.
On the other side
of a very tall barbed-wire fence there was a huge, ferocious-looking
German Shepherd dog. Had he barked, it could have
meant the end for all of them. Our family prayed the Rosary, and then
my father climbed over the fence. Instead of attacking him, the German
Shepard quietly licked his feet.Then my father knew it would be safe
for my mother and Otto to quickly follow him over the fence into Austria.
I was in my mother's womb at that time and she later gave me the middle
name of Gulliver, for Gulliver's Travels.
Our family sought
refuge in a nunnery only to be surrounded and captured by Russian soldiers.
You see, after WW II, Austria was divided into the American, British,
French, and Russian zones. My mother was,understandably, desperate,
when she found out that my father was scheduled to be returned to Communist
Hungary, probably to face a death sentence by hanging.
Fortunately, she
was able to contact the Americans in Vienna. CLAIBORNE PELL, a Senator
from Rhode Island, worked for the C.I.C. (Central Intelligence Corps)
there. He personally knew Countess Gladys Vanderbilt Szechenyi from
Newport, RI. When he heard about my family, he entered the Russian zone
to meet them. He soon returned with a case of champagne for the Russian
guards. While the guards were all in a drunken stupor, Claiborne Pell
helped my family escape to the American zone. Margit was the distant
financial sponsor of that campaign-she was the one who had bought the
champagne!
Our family found
refuge in the house of distant relatives in Salzburg where I was born
on May 21, 1948. An American Army doctor had warned
my mother that either she, or the baby would probably not survive. A
C-section saved both of our lives, but my mother later developed a systemic
blood infection that affected her entire body. Word of this got to Margit
here in Hamilton, and she immediately sent my mother some
life-saving antibiotics. This was quite a feat, since antibiotics had
just recently been introduced for medicinal use.
After a brief stay
in Belgium, our family immigrated to the US. Margit eventually hired
my father to help her take care of her horses. His expertise was very
useful not only in handling the horses, but in training and riding them
as well. He rode Margit's horses in competitions and won her a first
prize in an obstacle course event in New Jersey. Later he was also in
charge of several horses Margit kept on her estate in Maryland.
I will always remember
Margit with immense respect, love, and gratitude. She saved my family's
lives and the lives of the Hungarian horses.
She was a true American. She believed in the sanctity of life and in
Jeffersonian democracy. She detested Communism and all forms of
totalitarianism, despotism, and slavery.
I cherish her memory
as the tremendous supporter and benefactor of our family that she was
during many years. As a true friend she is, indeed,
unforgettable.
Thank you.
