Dr. Franklyn did not exactly try to take Paris by storm in the manner of Jack Price or this summer's agitated students. While Bunker Hunt and his horse-buying agent and friend Albert Yank came out for some racing at Longchamp the day before the Arc, the doc visited the immensely popular automobile show. On Arc day, the group lunched at the Ritz as the guests of John D. Schapiro, entrepreneur of Laurel's Washington, D.C. International, in company of such well-known French owners as Mme. Suzy Volterra and Daniel Wildenstein. Once at the course Dr. Franklyn, like everyone else, got lost a few times before finding his assigned seats. When Vaguely Noble had safely crossed the finish line everyone jumped into everyone else's arms, and then, of course, they all got somewhat lost all over again trying to find the winner's circle.
Naturally people started asking Dr. Franklyn what he planned next for Vaguely Noble, and just as naturally Dr. Franklyn started the evening off with a few conflicting statements. Would the colt go to America for John Schapiro's International on Nov. 11? First, to the French press, it was, "He's too good for the International. He's now retired." A moment or so later, to a gaggle of British writers, it came out, "We take our hats off to England. Thanks to the Queen, thanks to Sir Winston Churchill and thanks to his breeder, Major Holliday. This horse is a credit to all of them." At this point John Schapiro was tracking better than any golden retriever, including J. Brandle Berry-Bush. And a few hours later it seemed that Vaguely Noble wasn't retired at all. In fact, he was full of run. "Until we discuss it more fully with our trainer," said the doc, "I can't say that we definitely will go in the International. But I think we very easily may. This colt is young, he's sound and he's ready to run. I think it might be foolish not to keep him in training and let him race. [The next day, Trainer Pollet said the colt would not go to Laurel because he would not run well on that track.] I understand Damascus has already accepted. Well, we don't consider him in our league, but it would be nice if Dr. Fager showed up, because we have the best horse in the world and could also beat Dr. Fager by 15 lengths."
From behind his dark glasses the doc's brown eyes twinkled. It was time to go. Phones were about to ring from the breeding farms in Kentucky, England and France. And it was time for an all-night victory party.