An Earlier Time

danielandcompany

Brandywine Raceway

circa 1971

I remember that at an earlier age I was very concerned with how I would spend my Friday nights.
Youth came and went, along with the wild antics and adventures - desperate to have some fun!
 I'm glad I survived and can now laugh about those years.

My dad and I used to watch the Friday Night Fights on TV. This was back in the sixties. One thing led to another, and though it's a long and eliptic story, those hours spent with my dad led to my ultimately meeting The Champ - Muhammad Ali - and getting to shake his hand.

We were not rich, but what do kids know of these things. I mowed lawns and delivered newspapers and got a job at the supermarket at sixteen. I went to a small high school and was able to play sports - basketball, cross-country, golf and baseball. By the time college came along, sports gave way to my love of horses and I took to grooming and part-time training of standardbred horses (trotters). But even this took a few years to develop.

We lived near Delaware Park, a popular thoroughbred racetrack located in Stanton, Delaware. My dad went to the track on Saturdays. My older brothers had summer jobs there, but my interest was more the horses than gainful employment. My first job at the track was shoe-shine boy outside the barber shop. Here I met lots of horsemen and gamblers - some lucky, some not so lucky. I loved the steeplechase, where the horse jump over fences and bushes. It had more of a classic feel and seemed more natural than the dirt races from a starting gate.

I really wanted to ride the horses, maybe not as jockey, but involved in the training. Working as 'hot walker' or groom was the way in. I was already six feet tall at sixteen, so any riding hopes were pretty much fantasy anyway. I continued to work with horses as I started college, still watching polo matches and attending Hunt and Fair Meets on the weekends. After another year of this, my conclusion was that one needed lots of money to have horses, especially race horses. Steeplechase was a rich man's sport that was birthed with blue blood, existed on lots of ego and sustained with arrogance. Such is life.

Then I discovered Standardbreds! You know, harness horses or 'Trotters' as they are sometimes called. The Standardbred breed came from the farmers of nineteenth century america. The horses maintain either a 'trot' or a 'pace' for the distance of one mile. Back then, the standard was 2 minutes 30 seconds for a trotted mile, a little faster for a pacer.

There are a couple major differences with this aspect of the horse/racing industry. In the late 1960's, standardbred horsemen still had strong ties with their farms and with the farming community. They were generally hard working and unafraid of getting their hands dirty. Many horses were actually owned, trained and driven by one person. What I glean from this is that harness racing sprung up from these farmers - blue collar rather than blue blood. Adding to this, the Amish often used standardbred horses to pull their buggies. So, there was a large pool of blacksmiths, farriers and shoers that dealt exclusively with standardbred horses, from Nova Scotia to North Carolina, New York to the Midwest, California to British Columbia, even down in Mississippi, Florida and even on the caribbean island of Guadalupe. Of course Kentucky is represented; The Red Mile in Lexington, KY remains one of the fastest one mile race ovals in the world.

It is thought that harness racing began in Holland, and racing trotters is still very popular all over Europe, including the island of Majorca, near Spain. Numerous standardbred horses are bred in New Zealand and Australia, the offspring of great American race horses who after they finished their racing careers weresent south of the equator as stud horses. Many young colts and fillies are sent back to the United States to race each year. This snapshop is meant to give an idea to the worldwide popularity of the sport - a working man's sport.

Now I get to the second important and pivotal point: Harness racing makes use of a two-wheeled buggy, cart or sulky, attached to the harness and driven by a driver rather than ridden by a jockey. The wheels allow almost anyone to be able to participate and even compete professionally, with some effort and a little determination. For me, that was the ticket and I took to the sport - and the work - with diligence and enthusiasm. My schoolwork suffered, but I did eventually get a bachelors degree. It just took ten years. ;-)

In the fiftees, sixtees and early seventees, the primary harness track near my home was Brandywine Raceway, located on the outskirts of Wilmington, Delaware. The racetrack is somewhat like an island community. There are locals, a flow of life and a time for work, play and celebration. Work started early, especially for the grooms, who took care of the horses. The everyday exercise regimen was set by the trainer, but often carried out by the groom or second trainer who would hook up the gear and actually take the horses out for their daily exercise. Once or twice a week the horses would train hard, simulating race conditions. Quite often, groups of horses would train together and on lucky occasions this provided the younger hands a chance to get into the race bike - great fun!

This was the hands-on action that I had sought for the previous several years. I wasn't going to get rich doing this, but it sure was fun. I did not get to go out on the track at night under the lights with my own horse for several more years, but the opportunity was there and real. Lots of sports personalities were horse owners. They would sometimes come out to the races on Friday or Saturday night. I remember seeing Arnold Palmer at Brandywine one night. Perhaps it was a photo opportunity, but he seemed to be smiling alot and enjoying himself. There are always rehearsals in life. Just like history repeating itself and all that. Anyway, when the night came that Muhammad Ali was right there in the track clubhouse, I did not hesitate. I walked right up to him with my hand outstretched saying "Hey Champ!" He turned and smiled and shook my hand - wow!

"Now you see me, now you don't.

George thinks he will, but I know he won't!"

Photo and quote from 10ktruth.com website

That was a long time ago. I'll add one more photo so you can imagine for yourself. Keep dreaming, but take some small steps toward those dreams. They just might come true sometime, like during the Friday Night Fights!

"Here they come!"

Pleasant Journey!

danielandcompany