A Blog of Personal Thoughts

Precision of the Lipizzaner

March 2025

I first saw Lipizzaner stallions in a performance at Madison Square Garden in 1955 when I was 13. My aunt and uncle had seen them on a trip to Vienna. They came down from Rhode Island and we all went to the performance with them. Even at my young age, the precision of the Lipizzaner amazed me. The Spanish Riding School of Vienna had brought about 100 horses to New York.

Their grace, precision, beauty and coordination equal that of the finest moments of Nureyev, Baryshnikov, a military marching formation, or a corps de ballet. The precision enthralled me. Decades later when living in Kansas I saw a smaller group of Lipizzaner perform. While I was disappointed it was a smaller group than the 1955 performance I had seen, I relished seeing them again.

My third venture of seeing a Lipizzaner was meeting my next-door neighbor, who lived on the same lane. Driving down the lane, the first building was a stable with an arena in a large field and a smaller area containing a15 horses, some mature and white, some colts and brown, and some in between in age and color. One stuck out—Contessa, the stallion. He was the owners’ pride. Used for show and stud purposes, he stood out because he knew his value.

As with any performing Lipizzaner, Contessa, and his owner, Tracy, worked their routine daily. Tracy told me the rider’s movements are instructions to the horse whether they come from calf, knee, thigh, foot, or buttocks. Some come from the hold of the reins but more from the rider’s body.

Watching Contessa in the pasture alone or with the others, in his stall, or riding his routine was a treat. I’d never spent that much time with a performance horse. Watching him up close, I might as well have been watching Baryshnikov from the side of the stage or in the front rows during a rehearsal. I’ve seen an international Slavonic chorus rehearse from the front and second rows. Now I get to see a Lipizzaner rehearse his routine. As Tracy’s husband and I watched a full performance of this lone stallion go through his motions, the rider and stallion impressed me with their fluidity and beauty. At one point out of the corner of his eye, Contessa looked over at us. He didn’t miss a step, but he wanted to be sure we were watching and focused on him. We laughed silently.

Tracy riding Contessa in reverse double image. Photograph posted in the arena building.

Other days, we stopped by to say hello to humans and horse and to give Contessa a sliced apple and strokes to his neck or his long nose. Now I’m back in Alaska and a long way from Contessa. I miss him and his smell.

I just finished reading Elizabeth Lett’s The Perfect Horse. The Lipizzaner was the horse to pull the royal Hapsburg coaches, probably as four-in-hand. Then times changed. World War II came along and the horses, raised, stabled, pastured, and shown in Poland and Vienna were not a priority. In fact, they were in danger of being bombed by the Allies or taken by Russians or Germans for food. Eating horsemeat was not uncommon even when I lived in Scotland in the 1960s; it was sold in the butcher shops alongside beef, lamb, and pork. The horsemeat was definitely not Lipizzaner.

What saved the Lipizzaner was the determination of many key figures. One was George Patton, by then a general. However, in the 2012 Olympics, he placed sixth out of 31 in the equestrian competition. To me, if someone makes it to the Olympics then or now, that person is obviously world class in that event, no matter the outcome of the final three on the podium.

Alois Podhajsky competed in the 1936 and the 1948 Olympics. The 1936 Olympics had 127 riders. Not all participated in the dressage event, a specialty of the Lipizzaner. Podhajasky won the bronze medal in that event. He came in fourth in the 1948 Olympics. As I said to someone from the Russian Olympic swim team in the 2008 Olympics: if you made it to the Olympics, you’re one of the best in the world; it doesn’t matter if you’re not on the podium. She agreed. She made it to the finals but was not on the podium. Podhajsky made it to the Olympics twice. He was, therefore, one of the best dressage riders in the world.

Podhajsky and Patton had a special relationship from before the war. Although they had not met before, they both had competed for medals in the Olympics. Years later, these two lovers of horses and at least nine others on both sides, had done their part to rescue these stallions, mares, and colts for future generations. They met at the close of World War II in the process of rescuing the Lipizzaner horses. The words and pictures of them, some included in Letts’s book, show the great respect these two gentlemen had for one another and the other’s equestrian abilities.

Podhajsky and Patton greeting one another

It is impossible to portray the beauty, grace, and dignity of the Lipizzaner in a still photo. The two I show are meaningful to me because I know Contessa and Tracy. The one of Podhajsky and Patton is also meaningful to me because I was a young child during World War II; we listened to the news regularly, and some of my relatives were involved in the war. To see the Lipizzaner in action, go to YouTube to watch some of their performances.

I was not one of those little girls who was enchanted with horses and horse storybooks. I spent my time riding my bicycle and climbing trees. Yes, I know how to ride and as an adult had my own horse, but a diehard horse lover I was not. The Lipizzaner enthrall me since I first saw them and I’m happy to know one personally.