When the sun sets on the Golden Gate Bridge tonight, it will set permanently on Golden Gate Fields. The historic Bay Area track will have run its last race today.
There is something particularly haunting about the death of a race track. To many it means nothing, but to those in the industry it means job losses, uprooting, and perhaps most tragic, loss of community. There is so much more going on connected to a race track than what the conventional wisdom holds. An abandoned track is eerie. It is a sad reminder of glory days filled with excitement and sometimes magic. It is also a sign that our culture is shifting, again in a direction that may or may not be beneficial for anyone.
When I first began writing about thoroughbred horses and the people who rode, trained and owned them, I called the subculture of the racetrack the last American carnival. By that I meant it was a world unto itself, full of color and excitement, characters and emotions that was endangered. Not quite, but almost. Of course, racetracks are alive and well all over the globe and deeply immersed into the cultures of the French, Germans Irish, Italians, British, Japanese, Korean. Caribbean, and even Russian and Scandinavian.
But in the US, despite, the long history of tradition and all the colorful characters and great champions, horse racing is in decline and fading fast. Yes, I know that there have been glaring examples of the cheaters, the equine deaths, and the rule violations. Like the stock market, the big banks, and the medical/ pharmaceutical industry, there are and unfortunately will always be those that seek unfair advantage. We can't always prevent human nature or psychopathology from taking its course. But what the vast majority of people don't see is the love of the horse that those in direct contact with the animals have. In my 25 years on the backstretch (barn areas) of a couple of major tracks, I've seen firsthand the love and care that goes into grooming and preparing the athletes. The media seldom goes for their stories in favor of the more sensational dark side. In truth, every sport has these dichotomies, these contradictions.
When Golden Gate Fields closes tomorrow (June 9th) not only will it be the end of an era, but the end of a legacy in a world that tramples on it's past in favor of a perceived notion of progress.
Fairly soon, the grandstand will be replaced by heavy equipment and developers will be all over the sight sharing visions of expensive condos with incomparable views of the bay and both the Bay and Golden Gate Bridges. A little bucolic piece of the city will be a faint memory in a few short weeks. People like me will be looking to see if they can still find the spot where Bill Shoemaker got his first win, or where the legendary Silky Sullivan was buried.
Without being overly mawkish, I'd like to share my most memorable moments of Golden Gate. I'll start with some unforgettable names of horses. There were working class favorites like Eagles Fly High and Ragtime Dandy. There were heart stoping closers like Key Decision, Metropole, and Times Rush. We saw champions like John Henry, Charismatic, Lost in the Fog, and Silveyville. I recall a few too that nobody remembers, like a horse named Chewed Shoe, who only appeared once and ran a mile on the lead at 60-1 in the lead until the last 20 yards. Things like that you never forget.
And the people. Like a carnival, the racetrack is rich with characters. Back before computers and cell phones, it was illegal to make a phone call from a racetrack. Only Doctors or the emergency workers could do it. All the phone booths were locked an hour or so before the first race. Walking into the track, whether it be the grandstand, Clubhouse, or the Turf Club, not far from the Racing Form and Program sellers, would be the tip sheet hawkers. With names like Jacks, and Hermit, their voices rivaled any circus barker. One or two dollars would get you their selections for the day. The geography of a race track is a microcosm of our society. Like a social pyramid, on the bottom are those closest to the action. People often line up on the rail to view a race, but it's actually the worst vantage point. You can only see the horses when they briefly pass by. The Clubhouse level is much better. It's less crowded and the higher altitude gives a broader view. On top is the Turf Club, a fancy, if not expensive restaurant with white table cloths and TV monitors everywhere. It's a great place to pretend you are wealthy, and many do.
The people at Golden Gate Fields, like tracks everywhere, can be divided into a few categories. The novices bet $2.00 to show, like to sit outside, pick horses by their names or lucky numbers, and don't bother with the Racing Form or other handicapping tools. A good family outing or a day with co-workers. Next are the followers of the sport. Reasonably knowledgeable about the horses and trainers, analyze races carefully, and bet when the odds are favorable. If they win big, they'll leave immediately, because they know how fast it can disappear. Finally are the addicted gamblers. They have good days and bad days. They attend frequently and can be seen on every level from time to time. They aren't too proud to ask for money if they tap out early. They run a wild gamut of emotion and know every cliche there is about the sport. They are unavoidable because they are often very social.
In my 20 years as a correspondent for a national thoroughbred magazine, I covered all the big races at Golden Gate. There was a time when some of the best horses and their connections ran there. Bill Shoemaker, Eddie Delahousse, Steve Cauthen, Laffit Pincay, and of course Russell Base all rode there. Hall of Fame trainers like Baffert, Whittingham, Barrera, Hollendorfer, and Lukas, all ran horses there.
In thinking about time spent and things seen at Golden Gate Fields, I have put together a top ten list in no particular order. Just personal recollections of things I've witnessed or heard, or experienced. High on that list would be the Golden Gate Handicap won by John Henry in 1984. A huge crowd saw John deliver a dramatic win on the turf course. At the time he was the leading all time money winner. There was Nate Hubbard's ride in 1988, and the photo that went worldwide after the filly, Sweetwater Oak, stumbled on the sloppy track and jockey Hubbard clung to her neck to hold second place. Stewards ruled she carried her assigned weight over the finish line and did not disqualify her. You could watch thousands of races and never see that happen again.
The photo was taken by Peg Gruenberg, a young photographer who was taught to have a second loaded camera at all times with her because you never know what you'll see.
When Simply Majestic won a 1 1/8 mi stakes race (Budweiser Breeder's Cup) in 1:50, world record time, he broke a record held for 15 years by Secretariat. Russell Baze weighed in and told a group of waiting turf writers, "Man, I just got wind burn."
Some unsuccessful horses become fan favorites because people love an underdog who tries. Such was the case of Schwela, had a string of second place finishes that made him famous. When they put together a match race between Schwela and Olympic sprinter Jim Hines, the horse finished first to thunderous applause.
One summer they ran a short meet at GGF featuring harness horses. It was an evening meet that drew a crowd to the cool breezes along the bay. But just to sweeten the pot a bit, they ran some concerts after the racing was through. One summer evening in July, Rock and Roll Hall of Fame Chuck Berry entertained the crowd. Chuck let loose with some alternative lyrics on some of this hits and thoroughly entertained the horse crowd. I remember exiting the track that night because my friends and I ran into Chuck storing his guitar into the trunk of his Cadillac. He stopped and signed autographs on fan's programs.
As a turf writer, I met and interviewed many successful owners over the years. Hollywood celebs like Merv Griffin, accompanied by Eva Gabor, MC Hammer, Joe DiMaggio, David Cassidy, all made appearances.
Occasionally, an exceptional horse would show up. A Champion sprinter like Lost in the Fog would sometimes have public workouts between races. I recall watching this speedy multiple stakes winner gliding over the surface with the I-80 freeway and Albany Hill in the background.
One time I got word of a horse being shipped in from Southern California to run in a race on a weekday afternoon. The story was that even though he missed the Kentucky Derby, he was being pointed toward the Belmont Stakes and just needed a race before being shipped back East. I finished my work day just in time to get over there and see A P Indy win his first race that day. Later that year, AP Indy won the Belmont Stakes and followed that up with a victory in the Breeder's Cup Classic.
Then there were days of pure magic. Like the time my friend, a dance teacher, accompanied me. The Pick Three was a new thing and she wanted to play starting with a horse called Dominant Dancer. We hooked that horse up with another dancer horse and then in the final leg, a turf horse sired by Green Dancer. Her $1 investment brought back over $600. She took my advice and used the money to get something she might not otherwise could have afforded. I'm guessing she still has the diamond earrings she bought back then.
The last three places on my list will be occupied by the many personalities that stand out as unforgettable.
Track employees like Bill the Photographer, kind, helpful, and professional. Lafe the clocker, knowledgeable about music and literature and a real friend. Ellis the PR man, helpful and key to entering the good old boy network inside the press box, Jamie the paddock host, excellent handicapper, bloodstock agent and personal friend, and Sue the Clubhouse credential taker, mother-in-law to the leading rider, all stand out as being friendly and helpful.
Racing enthusiasts and personal friends comprise this list:
Michael, Marvin, Art, Dan, and Stuart all hung out in the grandstand.
In the Top of the Stretch Room: Ted, Bob, Mike, Jim: professionals all, a doctor, lawyer, writer, chef, day trader.
Real characters:
Adrian: always plays the 2-3 exacta box. Explaining his bet on a surprise longshot winner with,"He's due, I just knew he was due."
Henry, a backstretch worker who was a registered gambler with the IRS, so he'd collect a big win for you so you didn't have to have it on your tax return. Every track has(d) these folks. Henry often looked like he slept in the stall with the horses under his care but he always wore expensive cologne and smelled great.
Ira and his brother; The two most obnoxious New Yorkers I ever met. Loud, funny, inappropriate, knowledgeable, unforgettable. "Every dog has his day."
Reggie: Huge, gentle giant. Always wanted to "borrow" $2. He'd be your worst nightmare in a dark alley, but in reality he was kind, and desperately serene. "I'll get straight with you."
Howie: Good gambler and money manager. Wore his emotions on his sleeve. Hyper. "I don't need this aggravation."
So now the sun has set on Golden Gate Fields. In succeeding years, the stories, personalties, and equine athletes will fade and someone looking over the San Francisco Bay will marvel an ask, "Are you sure there used to be a racetrack here?"
