Play Misty for Me

Breyer's older horse sculptures, created primarily but not exclusively by their go-to sculptor Chris Hess, have their fans and their detractors.

When I look at the collection tour videos being put out on YouTube these days, I notice that few of the old familiar faces linger on new collectors' shelves, despite the fact that the oldies remain pretty accessible in secondary market sales today.  But aside from a few perennial favourites who never seem to have disappeared from the catalogue, like the Clydesdale family and Lady Phase, the Hess sculptures seem to be under-represented on the shelves, and possibly also in the show ring, these days.

Shouldering the oldies asides are scores of Silvers, Nokotas, Brishens, Othellos, Smarty Joneses, Ruffians, and Lonesome Glorys.

There is however, one old-fashioned Breyer that stands out proudly in almost every collection I've ever seen:  the beloved, old, white-and-gold, shaggy pony, Misty.

Misty has been a must-have model on most collectors' lists since her debut in 1972.  In fact, given that Misty was at the height of her popularity 10 years earlier, when she transfixed a nation of children while giving birth to her foal Stormy in the teeth of a wicked gale, one wonders what took Breyer so long to add her to the herd.

Breyer's Misty was a "must-have" for me

In fact, though, the addition of Misty to the line-up was something of a turning point for Breyer.  Prior to Misty's arrival, the vast majority of Breyer's horses were generic horses, described by their actions (running, fighting, grazing, etc.) and not by name.  The few exceptions were either not particularly accurate portraits (like TV's Fury) or models based on other sculptors' works (like Adios/Yellow Mount and Man O' War).

Misty, and Midnight Sun, which debuted at the same time, were the first original portrait models that Breyer produced.  There were problems with both of them.  Midnight Sun, apparently, was not a "Big Lick" Tennessee Walker and the mold seems to have been based on a generic Tennessee Walker of the time (Walkers were doing the "Big Lick" in the '60s and '70s, but not in the '40s when Midnight Sun had his heyday).  

Misty seems to have been based on a photograph of the actual Misty (taken when she was living with Marguerite Henry), but her painted markings were rejected not once, but twice, by Mrs. Henry herself, for technical inaccuracy.  After two corrections she must have just given up because, as is noted on the Misty's Heaven website, the real Misty had a crooked blaze, not a golden circle around one eye.  

Surprisingly, the culprit here is very likely Marguerite Henry's favourite illustrator, Wesley Dennis.  The headstudy of Misty he did for the cover of Misty of Chincoteague shows a mostly white foal with a golden circle around one eye.  It's unbelievably cute, but it isn't Misty, and Mr. Dennis does not repeat this particular pattern in his any of his black and white illustrations of Misty throughout the rest of the book.

The guilty party?

In fact, the thing that has always struck me as odd about Misty is that she isn't really the hero of her own book.  Most of the book is about Paul and Maureen Beebe's yearning to capture, tame, and race "the Phantom" -- a hitherto un-catchable pony mare living wild on the island of Assateague.  Because she has foaled shortly before Pony Penning Day, they manage to catch Phantom with her foal and immediately plot to buy them both and keep them on Chincoteague.  The remainder of the book deals with their gentling of Phantom and their growing awareness that she's really happier running wild.  SPOILER ALERT:  They let her go in the end, but hang onto Misty, who has never really known the wild life, as a sort of consolation prize.

Still, the book is called Misty of Chincoteague, and Misty is the pony who went to live with the author, who toured schools, libraries, and movie theatres, and brought fame to Chincoteague, Assateague, Pony Penning Days, and the Beebe Ranch.  She may not have really come into her own as a character until Stormy, Misty's Foal was published in 1963, but she was certainly the most famous Chincoteague pony ever to set hoof on the ground for nearly two decades before that (Misty of Chincoteague was published in 1947 when Misty herself was just a year old).

The Smithsonian article, "The True Story of Misty of Chincoteague, the Pony Who Stared Down a Devastating Nor’Easter," captures the appeal of Misty of Chincoteague, the book, well, I think.  The author, Eliza McGraw, notes that the twin themes of freedom and belonging that run through the book comprise "the animal lover's twofold fantasy" -- and I believe she's right.  

I've read more horse stories than I can count, and it's that tension between the wild and the domestic that drives the plot forward in almost every one of them.  Black Beauty is a horse brought up in domesticity, but his wild instincts not only help him rescue several humans from their own blunders, but also help sustain his will to survive.  The Black Stallion is born semi-wild, but learns to be domestic because of the bond he makes with one shipwrecked boy.  The Pie is a natural jumper willing to jump his heart out in an unnatural competition to please his ambitious young owner.  Flicka has the blood of a wild stallion running in her veins, but proves that she can be tamed by patient, gentle handling.  And so it goes ... in story after story after story.  The story of Misty is really no different, except that the wild and domestic are split between two horses -- Phantom representing the wild, and Misty representing the homebody.

Small wonder, then, that Misty seems so at home on collectors' shelves, even today.  We have no model of "the Phantom," but we will always have Misty because the domestic space is the place where Misty really belongs.