San Francisco
HORSING AROUND
"GO GET YOUR MONEY AND GIVE IT TO MEEE, GO GET YOUR MONEY AND PUT IT IN MY BANK!!"
... or at least that's what my Grandpa TOLD me the words of that little ditty, played before every horse race, said. At first I thought that it didn't SOUND like the right words, but after awhile I grew to see that there was much truth in what he said.
"Just look at those darned fools!" He commented, as he and I stood in the front yard just as the Fair Grounds let out. "Their money burns a hole in their pockets, so they've got to come dump it out here on the old horse track!"
The Fair Grounds Race Track's main entrance was about two blocks from my grandparents', and I'd have a tidy sum if I had 5¢ for every time I heard the "First Call" bugle while visiting them.
My grandfather used to amuse himself eavesdropping on the conversations of the unhappy gamblers bewailing their misfortunes as they sauntered back to their cars, broke, after the racing day had drawn to a close.
My grandmother's brother frequented the track, going a few times a month, but he put a limit on just how much he'd bet: $10.00 was his maximum. He would spend more only if it came out of his winnings. No trouble that way. He used to tell us that $10.00 was a fair price for a day's entertainment.
HOKEY-POKEY!
Now, when I was about 4 years old, I was into cowboys and horses, etc. My folks even bought me a cowboy outfit, complete with hat, boots, and shootin' iron (cap pistol), and even had my picture taken astride a real live horse!
About that time, somebody came up with the idea that I just might like to see a real horse race. I must have reacted very favorably to the suggestion, because my family made an outing of it - a day at the races!
The Fair Grounds grandstand was crowded that day. The usual fanfare and preliminaries began. In the stands, a couple of family members told me the names of the horses, and asked me, just for fun, which one I wanted to win.
I picked a name, and waited until I heard the bell, and the announcer shout: "and they're OFF!" Giddy with excitement, I began to cheer on my favorite. The announcer's monotone call filled the air as the pack disappeared in a cloud of dust, only to reappear seconds later coming around the bend.
Excitement was building.
"A sixteenth of a mile to go!" Blared forth on the loudspeaker, and the crowd jumped to its feet. My tiny voice added to the roar as the horses, now in full gallop, sped past the finish line.
The winner was called; It was the horse I chose! Of course my Mother made a big deal over it, as did the others.
Then it was time for the second race. I picked a horse, the race was run, and again my horse won. I was ecstatic!
The scene repeated itself in the third and fourth races, and a few people around us began to pay attention to what was going on with this little kid calling winner after winner.
So here it was, now, the final race of the day. Folks stood up and took notice when I selected a horse named Hokey-Pokey. He was a good horse, but not odds-on favorite. In fact, he was not even expected to show!
It didn't matter to me; I was undaunted: I said Hokey-Pokey was going to win - and stuck to my prediction.
The bell sounded, the horses were off, and I began shouting: "Come ON Hokey-Pokey!!" To the top of my little lungs. A few Fair Grounds regulars glanced at me from time to time, and I was as confident and as optimistic as before, rooting for a horse that had no business winning the race. They then looked down at their betting tickets, and a worried expression came onto their faces. It was too late - the bets were now closed.
The crowd rose to its feet, and we all shouted the name of our favorite horse, and my voice joined them - some say it even could be heard above the din of the rest of the spectators there.
And there they came around the bend. A sixteenth of a mile to go. But Hokey-Pokey was nowhere to be seen.
I shouted all the louder, and then, through the dust kicked up by these charging beasts, the head of a new would-be front-runner emerged.
The announcer was aghast! Moving up on the inside rail was my Hokey-Pokey!!!
It was close, real close ... probably a photo-finish. All I recall is that my horse WON!
We cheered, and many of the people there that day congratulated us on having a most extraordinarily successful race day.
As we started to leave, a few men, old hands at horse racing and track regulars, approached my mother.
"Listen," the first man began, "I'd like to take that kid with me to the track some time... And I'd PAY you to let him come with me!"
He was serious! Another man said to my uncle: "Man, that kid's got a system... Callin' every race a winner! I never SEEN somethin' like that before!"
The third guy said: "So, how much did y'all make after all them winners, huh?"
That's when my uncle answered him nonchalantly: "Oh, we never bet ANYTHING! We just wanted to take the boy to watch the horses run!"
That's when they turned around and walked off, shaking their heads in disbelief. "Dey didn't bet NOTHIN'! Now ain't DAT one for the books!" my uncle says he heard one of them exclaim, as the man threw down his used racing form onto the ground,
already strewn with racing tickets ...and lost bets.
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