1
A TREATMENT FOR THE SCREENPLAY
A TIME TO MOURN AND A TIME TO DANCE
by Richard A. O'Driscoll
SUMMER, 1929. THE CORN BELT, WESTERN IOWA. A small boy stands alone on a dirt road, holding half a broomstick with a piece of red cloth nailed to one end. A quarter mile up the road two men, mounted, wheel and jockey for position, vying for a slight advantage as they prepare to match their horses over this primitive race course. As they maneuver, the boy is startled to hear a small "yip" to his right and down the corn rows. Ordinarily a nocturnal denizen of the fields and hedgerows, a fox and her two kits move through the nearly full grown corn searching for field mice when they see the boy; a kit barks in fright. Turning to see the animals, the boy drops the flag in surprise. Up the road the horses leap forward and thirty seconds later thunder past the boy, nearly brushing him in a thick cloud of dust. Coming back to the finish line the elder of the two riders speaks to the boy. John Dew, farmhand, is chafing because his eight-year old son started the race before he could line his gelding up with neighbor Sam White's horse and consequently has lost the dollar they matched for. Small for his age, lithe, winsome Earl Dew tries to apologize for his failure to start the race the way Daddy wanted it. John pulls the boy up behind him and they ride for home. 2
Corn is king in this corner of the world, and summer is a time for growing.
Dotted here and there across the verdant countryside are the white clapboard, two storied homes where farmers grow their families, and near each house is a huge red barn, white faced Herefords and Holstein dairy cattle grazing in pastures around the barn. The green fields now topped with golden tassels fraying from the stalks move upward toward the sun almost visibly, horizontally only at eventide when a gentle breeze whispers eastward from the low hills along the Missouri. Like many other families in this last year before the Great Depression, the Dews have no trouble finding work on local farms. John makes enough to feed and clothe his family, and usually some left over to feed a Quarter Horse and a pony for the kids. Feed is plentiful around the barns, and the small shed behind the little house on the edge of Sac City large enough for two stalls. In this setting Earl Dew finds a love for horses central to his life, and very little interest in school.
THE DEW HOME. Mabel Dew, a small, frail woman whose face reflects a lifetime of doing without, sits knitting in the living room of the frame house on the road leading north out of town. John, lean, wiry, even-featured, enters with his "flag man" in tow, complaining that Earl has let him down. Mother Mabel sides with the boy and counters with a complaint that John shouldn't be racing for money they can ill afford, especially on the Sabbath, "when church is hardly over." Besides, all this racing will likely give their son notions about becoming a jockey as his dad was in his youth,
"riding all over them county fairs in Tennessee and goodness knows where else." Mabel Dew warns she is "raising no jockeys in this home, and you remember that,
John Dew!"
SAC COUNTY FAIRGROUNDS. JULY 4, 1933. Contestants for the Pony Race
are lined up in a row of seven, proudly parading before families and friends, six boys
and one lone, pig-tailed girl rider bringing up the rear. Mounted on Daisy, a short-
legged, nondescript Shetland of dubious heritage, Earl Dew's race horse is
nevertheless shining from laborious hours of grooming. At the starting line the racing
judge raises his blank-loaded pistol and fires. Seven ponies leap into action, pounded
in the ribs by seven screaming jockeys determined to win the purple ribbon and two
dollar prize money. Midway through the half-mile race Daisy moves closer to the rail
and when a sorrel pony carries its rider wide on the turn, shoots through to gain
ground on the field. Daisy gallops home a length to the good. Twenty feet past the
finish disaster strikes the leading jockey when a dog darts across the track, causing
Daisy to jump sideways, throwing her twelve-year old rider into the dirt. Adults run to
his aid as he sits up, holding his right arm and grimacing. Daisy stops down the track
and looks back, nickering. The Dews run from the stands, and kneel beside the fallen
rider. Mabel's face is drawn, John's relieved, as they wait for the announcer to call "a
doctor in the house?" Doc Spence examines an obviously broken wing, and advises
an immediate trip to his office uptown for examination and setting of the broken arm.
He tries to assure a distraught mother that it will "heal just fine, Mabel, don't worry yourself, hear?" 4
MARCH, 1934. Seated in the office of her pastor, Rev. Mr. Ira Crewdson,
Mabel Dew isn't sure she likes the counseling she is receiving. Hoping he will concur with her desire to turn Earl away from a raceriding career to something less dangerous, she is almost sorry she has tried to enlist the one ally she thought she could count on. Knowing the pastor is opposed to gambling as a pastime, she feels confident he will see things her way. Instead he asks her to wait a moment while he turns to a passage in the Good Book, then reads to her, quietly, but with emotion:
"There is no fear in love. But perfect love casteth out fear: because fear hath torment."
Earl, the pastor tells the anxious mother, must be free to make his own choice of vocation, even one we prefer he reject, or something within him will die. Every person has a dream, and if we take that dream away from our child out of fear or selfish desire to live out vicariously some ambition unfulfilled in our own life, we are guilty of a form of homicide. The death of a young person's dream is a serious matter, and
Mabel and John must be very careful to avoid doing this to their son. Mabel assures her pastor that Earl's dad is far from trying to dissuade their son from seeking a jockey's life! John's encouragement of Earl's ambition to ride race horses stems from both his own youthful adventures on the county fair circuits in the South, but also, she is sure, from his Indian heritage. Pastor Crewdson is surprised to learn that Grandma
Dew is full-blood Cherokee, something John has not been open about sharing, in Sac
City where only one family of color resides. Smiling, Pastor reminds Mabel the high school team is called the "Indians," and wonders if Earl wouldn't be a hero on campus if the other kids knew! Pastor urges her to bring the family to next week's Revival meetings, and allow God to speak to Earl through the evangelist's message. Maybe, he confides, she will find God is on her side in this raceriding business, and Earl will change his mind! She leaves, little solaced, but promises to bring the family to a service.
FINAL NIGHT OF THE WEEK-LONG REVIVAL. The evangelist is preaching with fervor to a packed First Christian Church. Earl pays close attention to this interesting speaker, who frequently addresses his message to the young people present. He challenges them to surrender their life to God, in order to receive the greatest possible blessings from Him. He might even call some to the mission field. Earl whispers to sister Beth, "I might could race a camel over there!" His attention returns when he hears the speaker saying, "...so be earnest, and repent. Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with him, and he with me." A few moments later when the evangelist gives the altar call, Earl sees his mother looking curiously at him, saying nothing, then rising to walk down the aisle, little Beth trailing. Earl struggles with his thoughts a few moments, then rises, his decision made. Minutes later Earl stands waist deep in the baptismal tank above the Communion Table, Pastor Crewdson intoning the familiar words as he plunges his young convert beneath the waters. In bedroom privacy later that night
Mabel confesses to John she was praying mightily for God "to turn that boy's head away from them running horses to something safe!" Summer has come again, the corn still awkward in its pale green puerility, offering little hope of the verdant luxuriance that late summer will bring to these gentle fields. It is Saturday morning 6
and Ed Loomis arrives in his battered Ford pickup truck, towing an equally battered
one-horse trailer. The Dew family gathers to bid Earl goodbye, for Ed and his aspiring jockey are off to South Dakota's wild west country, where they will try to win a race or
two with Ed's thoroughbred mare. Mabel stifles tears, for this journey clearly marks
her fifteen-year old son's "rite of passage," and she is not happy to see him depart,
even for a week with a trusted friend. Neighbors gather at the fence on either side to
shout well wishes to the frontier-bound duo, and they drive away, the mare nickering
farewell to a mother endeavoring fortitude, and an obviously proud father.
NEXT DAY. A large sign over the gate indicates the lowans have arrived at the
CROW CREEK RESERVATION RACE MEET, where they seek a parking place among
dozens of pickups, horse trailers, and cars of late 20s and early 30s vintage. Forty
miles east of Pierre, the prairie is dotted with ponderosa pine, rising out of the
sagebrush with disdain for the aridity of the country. Dust is abundant, as though
carted in from the Dust Bowl far to the south. The campground adjacent to the
primitive half-mile track is crowded with cowboys, Sioux families, ranchers,
townspeople from nearby communities, but this is Indian country and the others are
clearly their guests. Here and there lodgepole tepees reach skyward, with smoke
from wood fires escaping from the top opening. Children and dogs flit through the
crowd in happy abandonment, chasing and being chased, largely unnoticed as the
crowd exchanges information on the best animals to bet on the following day.
IT IS NIGHT and Sioux wives cook venison and fry-bread over the campfires
between the lodges. Earl polishes his first pair of jockey boots, a present from Ed 7
Loomis, burnished black leather with red tops. Several Sioux youths stroll pass, laughing, when one spots the boots, flashing in the firelight, stops to admire them from a respectful distance. He will not speak. When Earl smiles and offers to let him hold them, he uncharacteristically accepts the offer and with Earl's encouragement squats to try them on his mocassined feet. Earl picks up the mocassins and admires the beaded decorations. The Sioux boy's only word is, "Good," spoken over his shoulder as the boys walk away. Earl and Ed find sleep difficult that night, for the drums are
beating rhythmically all around the campground, and the dancing has begun. Ed complains, but Earl threatens to lift his scalp if he keeps it up. Ed is very surprised to
learn of his rider's Cherokee heritage, and surmises he may put a feather in Earl's jockey cap in the morning!
NEXT AFTERNOON. A small unpainted shed of sorts passes for a Jockeys
Room and Earl pulls on his silks, the Loomis colors a faded tri-color shirt of
indeterminate origin. David Running Elk stops momentarily at his side, warns Earl to
keep his eyes open during the race. The call for "Riders to the Paddock" prevents his
questioning his new friend about the meaning of the warning. The Post Parade
with as reveals a colorful crowd lining the rail along the race track, greenbacks flashing
betting fervor mounts. Earl rides Missy Dee quietly at the trot, then the canter, as the field heads for the starting gate that barely rates the name. David rides up beside him
countenance. "You ride like Lakota." on a big rawboned gray, staring at Earl's smiling
Silence. "You Indian?" Earl acknowledges his Cherokee ancestry. David, not smiling, advises Earl to "ride like Cherokee brave" in this race. Dust flung up by the flying field 8 almost obscures the attempt by two riders moving in from either side, simultaneously, attempting to squeeze Earl's mount, preventing his charge through a hole in the field
near the middle of the track as they round the final turn, but David on his big gray sees the attempt and rides to shut it off. One rider trying to stop Earl from winning
suddenly finds himself lifting out of his tiny racing saddle, turning in panic as he feels
David Running Elk's hand under his boot. Kicking it away he loses Earl's horse, which
goes on to win the race. Pulling up around the turn, Earl thanks David for his help.
David comments that his Cherokee friend "ride like real Lakota," and receives a
grateful handshake as they ride back to unsaddle near the Paddock.
LATE AFTERNOON ON THE HASS FARM, SAC CITY. Milking done, Grandpa
and Earl watch the barn cats lapping leftovers from a pail at porch's end, as they relax
after chores. A year has passed since Crow Creek, and Earl's body, unlike his
ambition, has grown very little. For his size he is well built, lithe, robust, with just a
touch of the debonair resting on his countenance, an altogether likable young man.
Earl decides the time has come to enlist Grandpa's active aid in convincing his folks,
particularly Mom, that moving from high school to jockeying will be a wise move for
his life at the end of his sophomore year, now just a winter away. He has completed
his frosh year, but he will be seventeen next May, and the big time is waiting for him,
the recognized tracks, the good horses, the best trainers, the top jockeys, and, he
reminds Grandpa, the money. He shares his hope of bringing in enough money to
can He even buy his folks a farm of their own, a place his dad work by himself. hopes
Fair when the travels to Des to catch the eye of a good trainer at the State family 9
Moines next week, for there will be some horsemen racing there who will run their better horses on the big tracks later on in the fall, Cincinatti maybe, or Detroit.
Grandpa asks Earl to "Fetch me the Scrapbook, son," and Earl willingly responds. It is apparent the two cronies have been keeping this for several years, not when Mama
Mabel was around. Grandpa opens the pages one by one and reads aloud some of the headlines from small town newspapers: "Sac City Rider Wins Four.. .Dew Wins
Feature Race on Diamond LiL.lowa Jockey Leads Fair Meet." As they turn pages
Grandpa grinds out the towns: Fonda.. Creston..Alma..Grand Island.. Broken
Bow..Ogalalla.. Burwell("Reckon you won just about every race on that little rodeo track at Burwell, didn't you, son?"). It becomes clear from the conversation that
Grandpa has a motive for this talk. The sun is closing on the horizon beyond the corn fields across the road, as an old truck laden with silage lumbers past, heading south for Missouri. "Earl, looky there, out beyond them fields. Some day a piece of that world'll belong to you. What you do with your piece is mighty important. But don't
ever forget what you got right here in Sac County. A lot of them folks out there would
like to have what we got right here." Grandpa succeeds in helping Earl along his road to maturity, and, he senses, the weaning time that is bound to come.
AUGUST, 1937. DES MOINES. State Fair is in progress, and the grounds are overrun with farm families and city folk from Des Moines, all enjoying the explosion of sights and sounds surrounding the carnival atmosphere of the giant Midway, where shooting galleries, games of chance, the Fun House, Ferris Wheel, and Loop-the-Loop
fried chicken for compete with dozens of hamburger, corn dog, and stands the happy 10 harvest dollars of the surging crowds. A huge banner stretched across the Midway announces HARNESS AND RUNNING RACES TODAY.
In the newly painted Jockey's Room the Presiding steward of the State Fair
Race Meet lectures the riders, young and old, some dewy-eyed farm kids, some grizzled veterans on their way down from the recognized tracks. He informs them there will be no rough riding on this track and infractions of the racing rules will be dealt with severely. Changing tacks, he introduces a smiling guest, neatly dressed in summer suit, "a great jockey from right here in Iowa, one of America's top riders,
Mack Garner." Mack shares a few words of advice and commendation, reminding them that he and his brothers rode this track when they were starting out. Matter of factly he relates winning the Kentucky Derby just two years ago on Cavalcade, and assures them the lessons they learn here will stand them in good stead when they move up to the big time. Wearing red and white silks, cap set at a jaunty angle, sixteen- year old Earl Dew passes Mack on his way to the Paddock, and smiles shyly at his mentor of the Jock's Room. Fifteen minutes later, having won a five furlong sprint, Earl again passes Mack, but this time the veteran hails him, commends his victory on the sorrel gelding, and walks back to the Jockey's Room with his arm around Earl's shoulder. Questioning Earl about his experience, Mack tells him to learn
he hits the 'cause there as much possible on the fair circuit before big tracks, up they don't make excuses for a kid that don't know his way around a race track. They play for keeps, Sonny, and you better know how to hold your own or they'll ride right over
him that he to school next you." Earl thanks Mack for his counsel and tells plans quit 11 spring and apply for a license at Ak-Sar-Ben over in Omaha. Mack relates that is
probably a good place to start, for "them jocks'll take care of a bug boy pretty good."
EARLY SPRING, 1938. THE DEW HOME, SAC CITY. Reading the Omaha
Morning World Herald, John Dew comments that Ak-Sar-Ben's summer race meet
expects to top all previous attendance and betting records, in spite of the Depression.
Earl, doing homework, seizes the opportunity to pop the question he has been
pregnant with for months. May he please quit school at the end of the spring
semester and go to Omaha to start his career on the recognized tracks? Race riding
is all he really wants to do with his life, and he just knows he can succeed in a big
way, given the right opportunities to ride good horses. Ed Loomis has promised to
look out for him at Ak-Sar-Ben, "and anyway, it ain't but ninety miles from home, and
you can come and see me any time you want." John takes up for his son, and Mabel,
closing her eyes to hold back the inevitable, surrenders her will to her men folk. She
has known for a long time this day would come, but its arrival is still painful. Sighing
deeply, she consents, and receives a long hug from an ecstatic son.
JUNE, 1938. AK-SAR-BEN RACE TRACK, OMAHA, NEBRASKA. A grand day
Earl breaks a horse from the in the life of an aspiring jockey, for on this morning
starting gate and rides six furlongs under the discerning eyes of the Stewards
appointed by the State Racing Commission, proving to their satisfaction he is able to
while on a saddle a control an 1,100 pound animal at top speed perched weighing
he receives from and pound and a half. Back at the barn congratulations grooms
Reed. Reed has exercise riders, and the trainer, his contract employer, Lyman 12 another horse ready to win, and intends to put Earl on him the following Saturday Earl tells his folks will Lyman come down to Omaha for the races that day, and expresses the hope he can break his maiden aboard Hot Cinders.
SADDLING PADDOCK, AK-SAR-BEN. The Dew family presses against the
the railing enclosing Paddock where the sleek thoroughbreds stand tensely in open stalls, trainers and grooms waiting the entrance of the riders from the Jockeys Room.
Their advent resembles the Paseo when the matadors march across the hot sands to the sound of a pasa doble as the ritual for a faena begins somewhere in the Latin world. All eyes shift from horses to riders as they stroll into the Paddock, togged in bright silks, caps perched at angles reflecting their personalities, very much aware of their unique importance to the Sport of Kings. Wearing No.8 on his sleeve, Earl steps smartly to stop at Hot Cinders' stall, talks briefly with Reed, receives his riding instructions on how to rate the horse. At ""Riders up!" Reed lifts Earl's foot and he is seated, adjusting his stirrups, crossing his reins as the trainer leads him around the
Paddock. He catches sight of his family, grins and waves his bat, happiness written all over his face. John and Mabel hold hands over the rail, mother's countenance evidencing a mixture of pride and anxiety. For this mother the occasion is more than maternal emotion when college naturally loosens apron strings, for this "school" her son is enrolling in on this warm June afternoon has a sign over the door that no other school would dare place at its entrance: Danger.
OUT ON THE TRACK Earl walks, trots, then canters his mount slowly during the Post Parade, accompanied part of the time by an outrider giving advice to a new 13 bug boy(apprentice rider), with Earl trying politely to listen while concentrating on his own for plan winning the race. In the stands a more than casually interested trainer has his glasses on just one horse and rider, No.8. Earl Beezley is known throughout
Midwestern racing circles as the shrewdest horse trader in the business, so astute at claiming average horses at a good price and developing them to win at a higher price that sports writers have dubbed him, "The Miracle Man." Beezley trains a stable of 25 horses, most owned in his wife's name, and probably lives better than his peers on a circuit a level below the top tracks in the nation. Known to be brusque at times, his outward austerity is tempered by a keen sense of humor. He has earned the grudging admiration of his competitors as a sagacious judge of horse flesh, and like few others of his profession, he knows how to bring a young jockey along to raceriding maturity.
AT THE STARTING GATE Earl's mount is loaded by the gate men, the last one in, and the gate springs open, releasing ten tornados on the hoof, riders straining for advantage pounding around the first turn. During the race we catch excitement, anxiety, fervor from the Dews, and a small smile on Beezley's lips as he watches through binoculars the skill with which Earl pilots his mount through traffic down the backstretch and into the turn for home. The track announcer sees a drama unfolding: the neophyte rider is in position to win this race. "Here they come down the stretch... Fair Wagon on the lead, Bravo Betty second by a length, Determination third
between horses.. It's Fair a by a neck, and. ..here comes Hot Cinders Wagon by length, Bravo Betty and Hot Cinders, Fair Wagon and Hot Cinders.. Hot Cinders takes 14 the lead.. it's Hot Cinders by three-quarters of a length!" After weighing out, receiving congratulations by other riders as he walks back to the Jockey's Room, Earl is intercepted by Beezley, who invites the Dews to dinner after the races. Earl accepts, provisional to his parents approval.
CHARLIE'S WINNER CIRCLE DINER. Earl and Hazel Beezley surround the
Dew family in the chrome and neoned art deco diner, a few blocks from the track, where horsemen and owners gather for chicken-fried steak and racing confab.
Several stop by the corner table to congratulate Earl on breaking his maiden, a racing term Hazel quickly explains to a puzzled Mabel: "Just a racetrack term, honey. Means he won his first race on a big track." Under the wail of the juke box in the corner("This
Can't Be Love," "A Tisket-A-Tasket," "You Must Have Been A Beautiful Baby"), Beezley informs Earl's parents of his desire to take their son on as stable jockey, not under contract, but with first call on his services. The Beezleys will assume full responsibility for Earl's care on the track, provide his living, travel expenses, and enable him to ride good horses regularly on the Midwestern circuit, most of the tracks not that far distant from home: Ohio, Illinois, Michigan, maybe Arkansas, here at Omaha. Earl regrets his contract to Reed, and hopes Beezley will buy Reed out. Over dinner the Dews
as with Reed can be agree to let Earl go with the Beezleys as soon agreement reached. Meanwhile, with Reed racing his few horses on the fairs, Earl is beyond that class of competition and Beezley suggests Chicago's Sportsman Park as a good
like the fairs Earl has been summer venue. Besides, that track is a half-miler riding on, and he should do very well there. 15
LATE SUMMER, 1938. GETAWAY DAY, SPORTSMAN'S PARK, CHICAGO.
in Standing the Winner's Circle, Earl is flanked by the Track President and other racing officials, radio announcer, reporters, and the traditional debutante who kisses the newly crowned riding champion of the meet on his blushing cheek. Earl receives his first gold wristwatch tokening the title, something he has coveted since the start of the meet. Following the ceremony Earl rushes to a pay phone in the grandstand to call home. He promises to win the next meet he enters and this time "give the watch to
Dad."
THE DEW HOME, SAC CITY. Earl has been home several days and is anxious to move on to his next goal, the championship at New Orleans Fairgrounds track. As at Chicago he will ride "free-lance," since as yet they have not been able to break the contract with Reed, and Beezley is laying his horses up for the winter months. Friends he made at Omaha, Dee and Dorothy Emery, will carry him south to America's oldest race track, where Dee will act as Earl's agent, obtaining the best horses through contacts with trainers in the stable area each morning. Dee's reputation as a hustler bodes well for Earl's prospects at the Fairgrounds, with its long winter meet running clear into the spring of '39.
FRONT YARD, DEW HOME. Parting is once again a tense time for the Dews, as Mabel experiences travail over Earl's lengthy separation from home, his longest by far. She is also concerned about his exposure to Southern culture, a touch of which
but this is the he saw as a boy in Tennessee with John's parents, Deep South and she knows it will be very different than rural Iowa. She and John have talked of New 16
Orlean's as a sin reputation center, ("the French quarter and all,"), and now that the
are Emerys putting Earl's suitcase in the Chevy trunk it is all a little overwhelming for her. She does not faint but looks as though she might as Earl kisses her goodby, hugs his dad, and jumps into the back seat with a cheery wave and a promise to write often.
TINY'S TOURIST CABINS, NEAR JOPLIN, MISSOURI. Shadows lengthen during dusk's approach as the Emery's sedan pulls into this primitive motel, the kind with narrow one room units separated by covered car ports. A huge man in coveralls,
Tiny emerges to greet them, a trifle too curious about his guests. After ascertaining their destination he advises dinner at Fred's Ozark BARB-B-Q ("Jes' mosey 'round that there bend and cross the bridge and you'll see her, sittin' right there, can't miss it").
During dinner, with juke box moaning "hillbilly" music, Dee and Dorothy try to prepare
Earl for what they know will be culture shock once they cross the Arkansas border in the morning. Nothing he has ever seen will help him understand Louisiana's racial mixture and Dixie lifestyle. They warn him that southern whites and Negroes treat each other differently than he would expect, and he must learn the rules for dealing with colored people in order to get along with both races. He will find the weather different, the food, the pace of life. Earl reminds them that he had ridden with a Cajun jockey at Chicago, even receiving an invitation for a "red-hot" Cajun meal at Delpha
Castille's home. Delpha has promised, too, to introduce Earl to Cajun racing, a special brand of racing unlike anything Earl has ever seen. Earl reckons he will know something about the South by then! 17
ROLLING ONTO THE LAKE PONCHARTRAIN BRIDGE, the first lights of
the New evening sparkle Orleans skyline across the lake as the Emerys bring Earl into the urban area. Palms and oaks trailing clouds of Spanish moss line the road, vying for space along the highway with gas stations, tourist cabins, and cafes advertising
"Country-Fried Steaks and Catfish," and "White only" in smaller letters near the door.
Earl's question to Dee about this novelty draws a grunt. "I told you it was different down here." Earl looks at the black children walking beside the road and wonders where they go to eat when hungry.
EMERY'S RENTED HOUSE, near the Fairgrounds. Noontime, and Earl is home after galloping horses in the morning for trainers he hopes to ride for. Sitting at the kitchen table he scratches a letter to the folks back home, commenting on the differences in culture between North and South, racing conditions, his success in winning enough races to place high among the many riders competing here. He urges Daddy to be ready for the new gold watch he is confident of winning by March when the meet ends.
THE STARTING GATE, FAIRGROUNDS. Earl's mount, a chestnut gelding, is
in. Earl's mount circles fractious as gate men approach to lead the horses nervously, apprehensive about entering the stall, until Earl taps his hindquarters with his whip,
is back in the but on the and they load quickly. During the race Earl's mount pack,
on the rail as the lead horse drifts out a turn for home Earl spots a narrow opening
and little, and drives the chestnut for the hole, the maneuver requiring perspicacity
characteristics of Earl's makeup beginning to shine daring on the rider's part, two 18
more and through more. Then, suddenly, the horse outside the leader drifts in,
that horse forcing into Earl's mount, and Earl's left leg into the rail. The first indication of an accident comes as Earl pulls up after the finish line, when he calls to an outrider,
"Tony, take him back for me, I'm hurt." Saluting the judges at the finish line, Earl requires help from valets to dismount, and he is half carried to the weighing stand where the clerk of the scales waves him off in lieu of an ambulance ride to the track infirmary. The loudspeaker announces the Stewards order for Jockey Stewart to report to their stand immediately.
WESTERN UNION OFFICE, SAC CITY. A reluctant Clint Johnson lifts the phone to give a telegram message to the Dews. He socializes a few minutes, not wanting to deliver the message he knows will upset Mabel especially, but finally announces his reason for calling: "EARL GOT HIS LEG FRACTURED WHEN A HORSE
HIT THE FENCE. THEY PUT IT IN A CAST. HE WILL BE OUT SIX WEEKS. HE IS
HOME WITH ME AND DOING FINE. WRITE TOMORROW AND TELL YOU ALL
ABOUT IT. D. EMERY." John's silence during the message is followed by an abrupt gasp from Mabel as she watches John's expression and realizes her son has come to grief. Clint relays his sympathy, hearing Mabel's exclamation, "Is it my Earl? Oh,
Lord!"
TOURO INFIRMARY, NEW ORLEANS. Dr. Smith completes the wraps and administers the Plaster of Paris on a hard cast, smoothing his handiwork and stepping
for six weeks from back to admire it. His announcement that it will remain today,
from and a that November 28, draws an immediate sigh of disappointment Earl, hope 19 maybe the doctor will find it healed sooner. Earl has just begun to obtain better mounts as trainers have taken notice of his skills, and now he will be out action for a month and a half. Moreover his leg will be weak after inactivity. Dr. Smith has treated racing injuries in the past, and counsels Earl to get as much exercise as possible for the rest of his body while waiting for his leg to heal. A nurse wheels him to the sidewalk where Dee waits with the car.
JOCKEYS ROOM, FAIRGROUNDS. Now hobbling on crutches, Earl visits his friends of the jockey colony, informing the riders crowding about him before the first race that he will graduate to a cane in a few days. They urge him to hurry back to riding, "we're making too much dough without you." Delpha Castille warmly invites him to come on over to Cajun country near Lafayette. "Meet my Mama 'n Papa, eat plenty good jambaiaya, meet pretty girls, go racin' with us over to ol'man Dupre's track. Come on, Butch, we have plenty fun! I teach you Cajun talk! You know what we say down home? We say, "Laizzez le bon temps roulez!" You know what that mean, Butch? It mean, 'Let the good times roll, man!'"
ANTOINE DUPRE'S EMPORIUM, "GRO.-MKT. BEER," near Abbeville, Vermilion
Parish, the heart of south Louisiana's French-speaking country. Earl, now on a cane, and Delpha make their way through a gaggle of clamoring kids in the crowded aisles of the ancient, almost ante-bellum establishment that serves as grocery store, cafe, liquor store, rural post office and fellowship center for this Cajun community. Delpha is related to most of the kids and passes out soda pop money left and right. Out back an extraordinary scene unfolds: a quarter-mile straightaway track the center of 20 activities carried on by several hundred people all talking at once, mostly in Cajun patois, matching horses for the day's races, making bets, renewing friendships,
beer cans passing and bottles, making jokes. It is apparent the good times are really rolling. Delpha introduces Earl to practically everybody within an hour, taking care also to lead his Iowa friend to the mysteries of Cajun cooking, where ample mothers stir huge pots of spicy concoctions that leave Earl gasping for "more Dr. Pepper,
Delpha, quick!" Meanwhile a bunch of boy riders begin to mingle with the crowd, cocky blue-jeaned kids, eight to sixteen, headed for the rusty, decrepit looking
"starting gate," a four-stall fixed contraption at the head of a straightway divided by a pole fence running the length of the track. Racing "down the lanes" obviates a lot of heated arguments caused by bumping during a race, and the Cajuns need little encouragement toward excitement not already generated by their Latin blood. Earl watches several races with interest, but declines Delpha's offer to obtain a mount in one of the races, requesting they return to New Orleans where he hopes to be riding again within a week.
SPRING, 1939. FAIRGROUNDS. Calling home, Earl informs his folks that Dr.
Smith has removed all restrictions and he will ride tomorrow. Mabel urges restraint in his riding style, but knows she is talking to a blank wall. She has overheard John talking to a few horsemen Earl has ridden for, and recognizes her son has already acquired a reputation for fearless riding. Not reckless, he is one of those riders destined for greatness precisely because he is willing to drive a horse through a narrow opening along the rail where the greatest danger lays for a rider, thus saving 21 ground and equine energy for the finish where every stride saved counts for cash.
Nevertheless she pursues a mother's prerogative in asking him to avoid taking unnecessary chances. Earl promises to be home for a vacation week and spend
Easter with the family.
WESTERN UNION OFFICE, SAC CITY. The telegraph machine pounds out a message for the Dew family: "IN A BAD SPILL TODAY EARL WAS LAST AND FOUR
HORSES FELL IN FRONT OF HIM AND HIS HORSE FELL OVER ONE OF THEM. HE
IS NOT SERIOUSLY INJURED BUT HAS A PUNCTURED THIGH WOUND AND IS
QUITE SHAKEN UP. WILL BRING HIM HOME FROM HOSPITAL TOMORROW
MORNING. LETTER FOLLOWS. D. EMERY." GRANDPARENTS HASS' HOME, SAC
CITY. Mabel walks the pasture fence behind the barn with her parents, holding the telegram in her hand, seeking comfort and assurance from her parents. Her features haggard, evidencing much crying in her pillow, she agonizes over the two major injuries Earl experienced over the winter in New Orleans. She fears the day she will hear the phone ring and Mr. Johnson will inform her of Earl's demise in a racing accident. Grandpa tries to assure her that Earl is a good rider and knows how to take care of himself on the track, but Mabel worries about the other riders and how they have caused Earl's major accidents so far. It is clear she feels helpless and even a little hopeless as they anticipate Earl's return home from the Southland.
CHICAGO AND NORTHWESTERN R.R. STATION, SAC CITY. Earl's train arriving from the South, via Omaha. The Dew, Hass, and Lake families greet Earl as he steps down to the platform, with hugs and kisses all around. Mabel expresses 22
concern for his injured and is leg, relieved to see him hop about on it, "good as new,
Mom!" All embark by auto to the Hass farm for a chicken dinner with fixings.
HASS SAC CITY. FARM, Dinner around the big table centers on Earl's tales of
in his racing Dixie, Cajun adventure, his relief to be home again. After generous slabs
of Grandmother's apple pie Earl relates his riding plans for the summer season.
Lyman Reed has relinquished the contract, and Earl is free to ride for Earl Beezley's
stable, following the circuit that will take them from Omaha to Cleveland, Columbus,
Detroit, and Cincinatti by fall. He expects he can get home for brief visits between
meets. The children are awed by the very mention of such faraway places. One family
member tries to turn the conversation to more immediate needs, like helping Grandma
with the dishes. Mabel is finally rescued by Grandpa's invitation to turn on the big
Philco for President Roosevelt's Fireside Chat. The war in Europe is raging, and radio
commentators and columnists portend American involvement in the conflagration in
the not too distant future. John confesses he would like to sign up for service but
knows he won't qualify. Earl is the obvious center of attention during the broadcast
and afterward, for he alone is draft age. While expressing reluctance to become
involved in the war, he reckons the Cavalry wouldn't be too bad for a jockey.
JUNE, 1939. AK-SAR-BEN TRACK, OMAHA. Late morning on the shedrow, as
Earl helps Beezley finish up the morning chores�feeding and watering the horses,
cleaning tack, rolling bandages, raking the shedrow, following the age-old race track tradition of leaving the barn area immaculate before exiting for lunch. During
conversation Beezley looses a surprise. He wants Earl and Sandy, a groom, to ship 23
to Nevada for one west race with their proven winner, a three-year old stud colt that holds of their promise being best horse this year. A couple of days on the train will
them in Reno in time for the put Silver State Derby, running for a purse well worth shipping expenses. Additionally, the race will serve to expose western horsemen to one very fine Midwestern rider, and that is important because Beezley has decided to ship to California in the fall, rather than Hot Springs, Arkansas for the winter season.
Earl is immediately excited about the prospect of wintering on the West coast, in the land of oranges, movie stars, and warm beaches. The Boss promises to share more about Reno over lunch in the Track kitchen.
TRACK KITCHEN, AS-SAR-BEN. Crowded, noisy, heavy with the fragrance of hamburgers, fries, chili, and bacon, the Kitchen serves as nerve center for horsemen and their families, the Stock Market "pit" where deals are made, riders seek exposure to trainers and owners they hope to ride for, jockey agents wheel and deal, bets on sure things are sought for, everyone vying for the least little bit of an edge in this highly competitive business where a nose in front at the finish line may mean thousands of dollars or a fast exit from town one jump ahead of the feed man waving his bill. Beezley is admired for his acumen and being seen with him is important, so
as little known on this circuit. many stop by for a friendly word, nodding to Earl, yet
Someone inquires of Beezley's future schedule and he mentions Reno and California in the fall. Some good-natured hooting over the Reno choice occurs among his
roulette and rather than cronies, who accuse Beezley of going out to play blackjack
his racing his colt. He informs his accusers he is staying home, just sending jockey 24 along for the ride. JULY 3, 1939. RENO, NEVADA'S UNION PACIFIC TRAIN
STATION. Earl carries his suitcase through the morning crowd thronging the station, somewhat bewildered as he looks for his promised ride to the race track, the State
Fairgrounds. As he exits to the sidewalk, a bright Mercury convertible pulls up, honking, and Earl meets three riders who will prove to be real friends. Steve Brooks,
Hank Lasswell, and Mel Peterson welcome Earl to the Intermountain West, a different world than anything he's known so far in his career. The drive up Virginia Avenue invites Earl's participation in the life of "RENO BIGGEST LITTLE CITY IN THE WORLD" as the jockeys drive beneath the immense sign stretching overhead across the main street lined with gambling casinos, restaurants, bars, the occasional store. Noting his awe, Earl's new friends promise to bring him downtown tonight for a look at Harold's
Club, the famous casino Earl has seen advertised across the West as his train passed through various communities. He isn't sure he wants to see Harold's, but Brooks assures him he will be safe with them. They promise to keep his wallet locked in the car so he won't fall victim to the croupiers at Harold's tables.
HAROLD'S CLUB, THE DINING ROOM. The young jockeys sit in a corner booth, making jockey talk-tracks they have ridden, horses they have won on, riders they have competed against, their homes, their longing for movement to the big time.
It is apparent to the others that Earl is discouraged by his accidents at New Orleans, wondering if even riding for Beezley on the better Midwestern tracks will help him reach the top of his profession. Brooks urges him to take the long view, to believe he 25 will make it to the best tracks and better horses, while Peterson, the most verbose, keeps them in stitches with stories of riding the Intermountain bush tracks. "Rode
Hardin, Montana one time. Nobody told me it was Indian Reservation. I'm on the front runnin' horse and every rider in the field is Crow or Cheyenne 'cept me. The guy I'm ridin' for's a Blackfoot chief! I'm afraid to win and I'm afraid to lose. I come near bailin' off at the 3/8ths pole and hightailin' it outa that country.." Lasswell remembers riding Borger, Texas "up near the Oklahoma Panhandle? There's oil wells all over the infield, and, get this, the rail on the first turn comes out this way into the track so's you run around this oil well." By the time Brooks tells them a few stories about his childhood, riding across Nebraska in a covered wagon as his dad traded horses with ranchers, Indians, the Cavalry at Fort Robinson, Earl is feeling better. Dinner over, they wander through the maize of slot machines, craps and blackjack tables, roulette wheels spinning, the croupiers droning their spiel, and out to the street. Talking of tomorrow's Derby, Earl's friends assure him he has a good chance of winning.
Lasswell recalls a rider coming to Phoenix in the spring who had been at New Orleans with Earl. The word among the riders at New Orleans was that Dew has what it takes to make it to the top if he stayed healthy. Earl is genuinely surprised and obviously heartened by it.
THE SADDLING PADDOCK, RENO FAIRGROUNDS. Earl talks with the groom,
Sandy, acting as trainer for Beezley for this race, as other riders talk with their trainers and owners standing at the stalls. Brooks, Peterson, and Lasswell are riding in the
Derby, but they are "all business" as they parade to the post, and load their mounts at 26 the gate. Earl's colt, Sobriety, stands quietly, breaks well at the start, and Earl rates him near the back of the pack as they round the track. Nearing the last turn he moves the colt up to contention, engages Brooks' mount in a dingdong battle down to the wire, and wins going away in the last few strides. Galloping side by side as they pull up around the turn, Brooks pretends a scowl in Earl's direction, breaks into a grin, and comments over the crowd noise, "Didn't I tell you?"
RENO'S AIRPORT. Earl stands with his three friends, knowing he'll miss their company for awhile, but sure to see them again when the boss ships west in the fall.
Waiting for the boarding announcement the three riders relate their belief that Earl is on his way to the top, but as Brooks tells him, he has to believe in himself, that he has the natural talent to go all the way. Some day he will catch the attention of Sunny Jim
Fitzsimmons or "old man Ben Jones" and a lucrative contract will be in his pocket.
Before boarding Earl calls the Boss at Ak-Sar-ben and shares the happy news:
"Sobriety and me win it for you and the Mrs., Boss!" Beezley tells him he'll have a bonus waiting for him when he gets home, sent on to mom to bank, "jest in case you got itchy fingers around them one armed bandits out there in Reno!" Meanwhile, says the Boss, they have a full schedule of summer racing on the Midwestern circuit, from
Omaha to Detroit. Earl "will get his belly full of riding race horses by the time they ship to California in the fall."
MONTAGE OF RACING SHOTS, A VARIETY OF TRACK SCENES SIGNALS
SUMMER'S PASSAGE. HORSE VANS MOVING OUT OF BARN AREAS, HORSES
BEING UNLOADED FROM TRAIN CARS, EARL SIGNING AUTOGRAPHS TRACKSIDE, 27
HEADLINES SCROLLING OFF NEWSPAPERS: "Dew Wins Jockey Title," "Iowa Rider
Captures Riding Championship, "Dew Gallops to Feature Win," "Early" Dew Leads
Jockeys." The last one reads: "Dew Sets Thistledown Record for Riding Wins."
JULY, 1939. Hazel Beezley carries this Cleveland paper to the car as the
Beezleys take Earl with them on a brief vacation trip eastward to Niagara Falls, then on to Buffalo where they board a Lake Steamer for Detroit, the last meet of the summer season. En route they pass Lake freighters laden with coal bound for the steel mills, sail boats, the occasional Chris Craft motor boat. Approaching the Detroit waterfront early in the morning, sunlight dancing diamonds across the lake surface,
Beezley tells Earl that during the Cleveland meet he was approached by an agent for one of the top stables in the nation and questioned about Earl's availability. He shares with Earl that if he continues to win races at his current rate there will soon be other offers to employ his talents at the top of the racing game. News about coming riders travels fast on the racing circuit, and the best of the young riders are sought by the finest stables for future employment. Beezley expresses his willingness to let Earl go, any time he feels he wants to sign with a better stable. That is why he has never insisted on Earl signing a contract. Earl is touched, but very emotional in insisting that he will never sign with another stable, intending to stay with the Beezleys, "no matter what they offer me." Beezley allows that Earl may change his mind when they reach
California's tracks, for that will be Earl's first exposure to racing's first class venues.
They will be competing with better horses and better jockeys as well. It is apparent 28 that while the team will continue together for now, there may be another weaning time ahead for Earl Dew.
SEPTEMBER, 1939. HASS FARM, SAC CITY. Earl and Grandpa are having another talk, as Earl helps grandfather finish the milking. Walking back to the house they talk of the coming trip to California and all it portends for Earl's career. Grandpa reminds Earl of their talk of a couple of years ago, before the State Fair at Des
Moines, of how he had won more than his share of races, receiving the commendation from Mack Garner. Now, two years later, he has begun to draw attention from the press wherever he rides, predictions that he is a rising star of the racing saddle, possibly on his way to the top of his profession. Earl remembers
Grandpa's admonition of two years ago, and assures him he hasn't forgotten the sage words of counsel. He thinks of Sac County wherever he goes, and isn't impressed by the glitter and glamour of the race track. He knows that attraction will gain strength out on the Coast, especially when they race in southern California where the movie stars are heavily invested in racing, both breeding and owning horses at Santa Anita and Del Mar near San Diego. Beezley has told him the monied people often attend the races at Caliente just over the Mexican border on the weekends. The Boss tells him Caliente runs ten races on Sundays, and that he can easily figure on riding a bunch of those every weekend while they are racing near Los Angeles or San
Francisco. Those wins will accumulate toward his total on American tracks. Grandpa wonders how Earl will find time for church on the Lord's Day with a schedule like that.
Earl explains that racetrackers are committed to a morning routine with the horses that 29
obviates church on Sabbath mornings. Racetrackers are not much given to formal
religion, yet they seem to practice some Christian virtues "about as good as folks off
the track, Grandpa." Grandma calls them in to table, where Earl's family is gathered
for this farewell dinner before he embarks for Omaha's connection with the mainliner
west. He is to meet the Beezleys in Omaha for the transcontinental journey through
Oklahoma, New Mexico, Arizona, and on to California.
OCTOBER, 1939. ATCHISON, TOPEKA, AND SANTA FE MAINLINER,
CROSSING THE LLANO ESTACADA IN SOUTHERN NEW MEXICO DESERT
COUNTRY, NEAR THE MEXICAN BORDER. Dozing in his window seat, Earl is
awakened by the Boss, who informs him a special treat awaits him in the Dining Car.
The Beezleys have encountered a famous racing figure, a legend in the game, Colonel
Matt Winn, impresario of racing's tour de force, Churchill Downs, home of the
Kentucky Derby. Beezley is thrilled at the prospect of Earl's meeting with this man
who has seen the greatest jockeys of the century riding at Louisville. He counts this
"chance" meeting a miracle, for the Colonel knows every important personage in
American racing and most of them are beholden to him for one favor or another.
Their entrance into the Dining Car leads them past "nicely dressed for dinner"
passengers, for whom the Depression hasn't been all that bad. Negro waiters attend the tables set with fine linen, silver, and fresh flowers. Colonel Winn rises to shake
Earl's hand and welcome him to the table in a soft Kentucky accent, that special blend of South and Midwest peculiar to this border state. Over dinner the Colonel, obviously accustomed to center stage, regales their table, and a couple tables in either direction, 30 with stories of his early racing days in this very country. He points southward out the window past regiments of saguaro cactus racing past the train, reminding them that famed Mexican revolutionary leader Pancho Villa had raided across this border one morning and shot up the town of Columbus, New Mexico, which in turn initiated
General Pershing's Expeditionary Force invading Mexico's northern provinces. But before all that happened he had often entertained Villa and other revolutionary warrior chiefs at the track in Cuidad Juarez, just across the Rio Grande from El Paso, Texas, where he managed the track for eight seasons in the early years of the century.
Social Studies class in high school back home was never this interesting. Earl leans forward, totally fascinated by the Colonel's charisma as he spins tales of racing south of the border. Winn assures his captive audience that "everybody who was anybody in American racing" either got their start at Juarez, or made it a stop along the winter trail. "Maxie Hirsch, Henry McDaniel who had Exterminator, Guy Bedwell-won the
Derby in '19 with Sir Barton, the O'Neil boys, Frisco Hoag, everybody raced with us,
Earl." The major problem revolved around the territorial disputes raging back and forth between competing armies, each coveting Juarez as headquarters for their troops. The race track, unfortunately, often lay dead center in the midst of the fighting, and the jockeys could never be quite sure which army would be holding the winner's circle when they galloped back to unsaddle after a race! Earl and the
Beezleys hold aching sides through the Colonel's stories, and Earl is not quite so sure he wants to ride Agua Caliente on weekends! The Colonel assures him it is perfectly safe nowadays. He will, in fact, find that riding in Old Mexico is fun, for while the 31
Mexican horsemen are noted for their seriousness about winning, at the same time they enjoy one another's company during the competition, probably more than the
Americans do at home. Winn extracts a promise from Beezley to "call in the Marines from San Diego if war breaks out in Caliente."
NOVEMBER, 1939. BAY MEADOWS RACE TRACK, SAN BRUNO, CALIF. THE
BARN AREA, EARLY MORNING. A package has arrived, and opening it, Earl finds a new pair of riding boots, a gift from the Boss, made of Kangaroo leather, a special treat for jockeys. Earl exults to fellow employees of the stable as he sits on hay bale and slips them on. This afternoon he will ride the Oregon-bred colt, Mioland, a prime
West Coast threat for stakes races on both coasts, possibly even for next year's
Kentucky Derby. Earl is excited about his prospects of winning this race, both for the rider's share of the purse and because Ted Lewis, the famous Hollywood entertainer, is to present the winning jockey with a gold watch. Beezley encourages him, but cautions him to keep his mind on raceriding, not winner's circle presentations.
STRETCH RUN, FEATURE RACE, "THE TED LEWIS PURSE." Flattened out across Mioland's withers in the style few other riders could emulate, riding in perfect rhythm with his mount's strides, Earl brings the crowd to its feet with a beautiful hand ride, crossing the finish line a length to the good. After the win circle photo, unsaddling, Earl poses with Ted Lewis, the "Is everybody happy?" band leader of film and night club fame. Ted presents the grinning rider with a gold watch before a cheering crowd. Ted tells Earl to send a copy of the photo to his home town newspaper, whispering and winking, "I need the publicity." 32
SATURDAY MORNING, THE DEW HOME, SAC CITY. The mail man honks as he deposits delivery in the box; Beth runs out for it. Family gathers around Dad as he opens and reads Earl's letter, telling of the Mioland victory. Best of all, the publicity has opened other doors for him, as trainers are asking Beezley for Earl's services when he is free to accept outside mounts. Several train for owners of stakes horses, including the Bing-Lin Stable, Bing Crosby's racing interests. Earl writes he has made many friends in the riding colony, most of whom will be competitors at Santa Anita come the first of the year. He especially admires Carroll Bierman, Basil "Bud" James,
Johnny Longden, Jackie Westrope, and "Doug Dodson, from up Oregon way." The letter closes with his appreciation for the Boss, who admonishes the folks "not to worry about me getting hurt. For if I do he will wire you right away. He and I sure get along good together. He thinks I am the best boy that ever lived. He wouldn't trade me for all the horses he's got. And I wouldn't quit him for anything in the world. He has done more boosting for me than anyone I've ever been with. He also feeds me, boards me, pays for my laundry,, for many things. He never balls me out like a lot of men would." Earl closes with joy over a photo of his Dad he has "put right in my book." His P.S. notes that "the Stewards here are sure tougher than anywhere I rode yet."
JANUARY, 1940. SANTA ANITA TRACK, IN FRONT OF THE GRANDSTAND, AS
EARL UNSADDLES FOLLOWING A RACE. Clearing the scales, he hears his name
Steward's Stand." In the Stand he faces called on loudspeaker: "Jockey Dew report to three stern gentlemen, who inform him he has been "set down for ten days for rough 33 riding," causing interference going into the first turn, moving from an outside position too quickly and causing Jockey Dodson to pull back his mount to avoid an accident.
They warn him the rules of racing may be more vigorously enforced in California than on other tracks where he has ridden. He is dismissed, obviously chagrined.
THE JOCKEY'S ROOM. Earl seeks out Doug Dodson, other riders commiserating about his suspension as he walks through the room. Dodson exits the shower room, and readily accepts Earl's apology for accidentally shutting him off in the turn. Dodson, a clean cut, handsome lad, just now making headlines as a real comer in the Santa Anita riding ranks, sensing Earl's dejection over the suspension, his first, suggests they go out on the town together. Earl accepts and questions the destination. Dodson learns that Earl has never been to the ocean and suggests Santa
Monica the next "dark day," a non-racing day.
SANTA MONICA, THE PIER, BUILT OUT OVER THE PACIFIC ON THE BEACH
WEST OF LOS ANGELES. Earl and Doug wend their way through the throng of sun seekers, teenagers, sailors and their girls, young couples with kids in tow, retirees lazing on the benches, the noise level from juke boxes and radios very high, hot dog hawkers adding to the melange. Purchasing fish and fries they settle on a bench near the end of the Pier, the winter sun beginning to settle slowly Japanward as they eat and talk. Dodson allows this seems a distant dream for a fellow growing up on the
High Desert of central Oregon. Earl is curious about Dodson's riding career, and learns his friend was picked up from a shoe shine stand and put on a race horse, and
"it just seemed to fit." While riding at Oregon's State Fair a trainer found him and took 34 him to Longacres in Seattle, where he was soon winning on the major circuit. From there California was natural, and here they are together at Santa Anita, the West's premier track. Sharing about his own career, Earl admits his mother's problem with fear of injuries, wonders how Doug's folks handle that problem. Doug has been spilled a number of times but seldom mentions these incidents in letters home. A couple of the more spectacular ones have been photographed on the track at Seattle, and seen by his parents, but since he walked away unhurt each time they said little about them. Both boys conclude that disability is a potential for their lives, but each affirms they expect to "retire and come sit here in the sun with these old folks." In the meantime there is adventure, races to be won, towns to be seen, visits home between race meets, and some day, a chance to ride in the big one, the Kentucky Derby.
Retreating back along the Pier they pass the Dance Hall, now filling with jitterbuggers and waltzers. From the band comes the notes of the initial number, "Sunny Side of the Street." The crooner intones warmly received advice in this last year of the
Depression: "Grab your coat and get your hat, leave your worry on the doorstep, just direct your feet to the sunny side of the street..." Doug expresses the hope he will meet a pretty girl one of these days, the girl he dreams of marrying. Earl confesses he knows lots of them back home, but doesn't favor any one girl as yet. Doug wonders if Earl won't meet "one of those pretty senoritas while riding south of the border."
SATURDAY NIGHT IN SAN DIEGO, IN FRONT OF THE PALACE THEATER.
Earl and the Beezleys wait in line for tickets to see Errol Flynn, Miriam Hopkins, and 35
Randolph Scott in "Virginia City," Warner Brothers new Western extravaganza. Hazel
recalls reading that 50,000 people jammed Reno at the Premier showing of the film,
and Earl and the Boss laugh over their victory with Sobriety last summer on the
Nevada track. Beezley thinks Hollywood should make a movie starring Earl winning
the Silver State Derby, and, later on when he "wins the Kentucky Derby on Mioland!"
Turning into the line at the door, Earl catches the eye of the attractive young
usherette, returning her smile. Romance has entered Earl's life, suddenly,
unexpectedly, and there is only this moment to capitalize on it. Handing Mary his
ticket he stumbles shyly over his "Hello. How are you?" Looking back, he is rewarded
with a second smile. Leaving the theater he is happily surprised to find her in civilian
clothes, now off duty and headed for home. Recognizing the mutual attraction
between these two young people, the Beezleys offer to drop her off at her home, and
Earl is delighted by her acceptance. Sitting in the back seat with Earl, Mary is
intrigued by Earl's vocation, and admits she has only seen horse races on the silver
screen during the Newsreels. Earl asks her for a date as he walks her to the gate,
and she reports she must ask her parents, as they are quite strict about her dating.
She admits she has done very little of it so far. He offers the Beezleys as chaperones.
Mary thinks that will help assure her parents. Earl wishes she could attend tomorrow's races at Caliente, but she cannot "because of church and relatives visiting in the afternoon." She isn't sure she could stand the excitement, and might worry about Earl getting hurt. He is touched by her concern when they have just met, but 36
assures her he will be alright, "though I've been banged up a few times." They part at
the gate with mutual reluctance.
THE DEW HOME, SAC CITY. John comes in from the barn to find Mabel
clutching Earl's letter of March 25. She is visibly upset, and John takes the letter from
her hand. Reading aloud, he learns of Earl's Sunday afternoon adventures in old
Mexico: "I rode ten horses. Win the first and fourth, fell in the fifth and got back up
and win two more and two seconds. I fell over a horse that fell in front of me. The
other boy got an arm broke. I was sure sore Monday and Tuesday but I feel swell
now. I decided last week I'm not going to get a new car when I get home. I'm going
to wait till October when the new 1941 cars come out..." Mabel's patience with this
seemingly endless injury report from the racing wars is wearing very thin. Earl's
apparent nonchalance only adds to her discouragement and growing apprehension.
John is concerned, too, but reluctant to show it to his wife. As a horseman, perhaps
just as a man, he is more apt to view Earl's accidents with a certain sense of
inevitability, always assuming his son will walk away from the spill without disabling
injury. His efforts to dissuade his wife away from despair meet with little more success
today than in the past.
SPORTS DEPARTMENT, SAN FRANCISCO CHRONICLE. A bustling scene as
reporters, clerks, runners, editors hurry about this typical big city newspaper, getting
out the daily. Chronicle horse racing columnist Oscar Otis, casually dressed, tie
loosened, sleeves rolled up, sits on edge of his desk chatting with the department editor. The conversation centers on jockeys, one in particular whom Otis had taken 37 notice of at Bay Meadows, and has been following on the southern racing scene through the winter months. He reads to his boss a couple of Racing Form reports of
Earl Dew's riding form at Caliente in the past couple weeks: "This is a four-mile race,
Ted! Thoroughbreds don't run four miles at speed! Listen to Dew's ride: "Big Ed,
sent to the front at once, set the pace under clever rating, continued gamely and
easily held sway throughout, winning with much in reserve." Can you beat that? And
listen to this one: "Gatlin, slow to settle into stride and on the inside most of the way,
was taken around the leaders entering the stretch, responded to strong riding and
was up to win under superb handling." I tell, you Ted, this kid has it all! Mark my
words. Earl Dew is set to win a national title before long. I'll lay you ten to one on it."
SCROLL UP THE SPORTS PAGE OF THE SAN FRANCISCO CHRONICLE,
SATURDAY, MARCH 9 ISSUE: "Basil James, the Sunnyside, Washington flash, led all
Santa Anita riders in number of wins. Doug Dodson, the Oregon sensation, wound up
leading Apprentice Jockey. But for the vote of "best rider" ours goes to Earl Dew. He
has made more of his opportunities in our opinion, than any other reinsman on the
grounds."
A PHONE BOOTH, HOTEL LOBBY, THE EL CONQUISTADOR, SAN DIEGO.
Earl calls home to report the Boss has decided to ship to Columbus for the spring
meet, then on to Detroit rather than Chicago. He will be home for a few days en route to Ohio. He is irked by Dad's most recent letter warning him against precipitate signing of a contract now that his riding is drawing national attention. "I'm eighteen
not to be broke all life." now and I'm trying to make enough money my Mabel's report 38 of this declaration of independence hurts John, well aware of his inability to provide a steady income for the family, and Earl's feelings expressed with some heat over the phone are painful, especially in light of his son's increasing wage earning power. He comments, quietly, that it is impossible to tell a teenager much he doesn't already know.
AUGUST, 1940. FRONTSIDE OF THISTLEDOWN RACETRACK, CLEVELAND.
Earl's success at Beulah Park and Detroit have placed him in contention for national riding honors. He is already far ahead in the Thistledown race for the meet championship, and the fans have dubbed him "Early Dew," because he is often earliest at the finish line. This morning, having galloped half a dozen for the Boss, they are watching a small brown mare matched with another horse in a training race down the stretch, pulling ahead with each stride. Earl asks for Beezley's opinion. Could she be a good purchase if he buys her for dad to race on Iowa's fairs later in the summer?
Beezley figures she would be hard to beat at five furlongs or less on the half-milers, and suggests they offer hard cash for her. Later in the day they buy Dust Box for
Daddy, and in an excited call home Earl relates the story of the purchase to his father.
He has been planning this purchase for months, but kept it a secret till now, a surprise birthday present for his father. John is deeply moved, but taciturn as usual. After thanking his son, he sits down with Mabel and fights back tears. John relates that
Earl hopes he will race the mare around western Iowa, then haul her into Nebraska
take her clean to and clean up on the Cornhusker horsemen, "maybe up Lincoln,
Daddy, to the State Fair!" 39
DEW HOME, FRONT YARD, EARLY MORNING. John has Dust Box in hand, loading her into a narrow one-horse trailer behind an old, borrowed pickup truck, aided by the kids. Mabel is reluctant to let him go, but knows he needs this opportunity for his soul's sake. Not to race Earl's gift mare would be unthinkable, and while they cannot afford the money for John to go racing at the fairs, Beezley's gift of saddle, bridle, blankets, and bandages has made the jaunt possible. John promises to write often, and kisses the family goodbye, with Dale protesting he is old enough to ride the fairs if only Dad would give him the chance.
MABEL, WALKING THROUGH THE GARDEN, ALONE. Staring out across the pasture, the corn fields beyond, thinking of the lonely days ahead, days of worry and nights when sleep will come hard, with both of her men engaged in what she has come to believe must be the most dangerous profession on earth. Even though John will not be riding races, she knows by long experience that thoroughbred horses are high-strung, temperamental animals, and the people handling them are exposed to sudden danger at all times. Walking back to the house she absently flicks on the radio as one song ends, and as the next one starts up on the "Country Music Station" in Sioux City, she realizes the import of the lyrics to a new favorite across the nation,
"There'll Be Peace in the Valley For Me." Seated at the kitchen table, she bows her head.
LABOR DAY WEEKEND, THE HASS FARM, SAC CITY. Grandpa's old Ford
Model A arrives home, Mabel and the kids climbing out with him to join Grandma on the porch, who retires to the kitchen for plates of oatmeal cookies and pitchers of 40 lemonade. Across the road the corn is approaching its ultimate glory, the milk in the kernels turgid in the searing midday sunlight. Nothing stirs in barnyard or trees, with the rusting thermometer registering the century mark. Mabel confides she has given up canning peaches because of the heat, and with John still away on the Fair Circuit she needs solace and comfort from her parents. Earl is now at River Downs in
Cincinatti, and his letter on arrival announces, "The last horse I rode at Cleveland last night fell with me but I didn't get hurt. This is sure a nice town. There is sure a lot of jocks here from Chicago and all over, but I'll do alright." Mabel tells her folks the mail box has become her enemy, for now she dreads every letter from her boy. Before the double injuries at New Orleans she could handle the suspense fairly well, but since then she is often gripped by fear, despite her efforts to pray and trust the Lord. She wishes John would come home, for while he has won a few races with Dust Box, he is only breaking even on expenses. Meanwhile she has to carry the burden of Earl's safety alone. Grandpa reminds her that Earl's record setting pace at Cleveland-65 wins-has put him into second place as leading rider in the nation, and undoubtedly he will be riding a better class of horses from now on. Anyway, once John has finished the Fair season at Nebraska's State Fair he will bring the mare home. Mabel is little consoled but grateful for the attempts to bolster her morale.
SEPTEMBER, 1939. YELLOW CAB, EN ROUTE FROM AIRPORT TO STATE
FAIRGROUNDS, LINCOLN, NEBRASKA. Earl urges the cabbie to "Step on it, please,
Mister," in his urgency to reach the race track. The driver learns that Earl is about to surprise his dad by arriving in time to ride Dust Box in the feature race of the 41 afternoon, by prearrangement with the obliging Stewards who are thrilled by the prospect of having America's second leading jockey ride even one race on their track.
Zipping through the Main Gate, Earl slips the cabbie a tip and disappears into the
Jockey's Room.
THE JOCKEY'S ROOM. Earl hails a waiting valet, who helps him don riding silks, hurriedly passed to him by the rider originally signed to ride Dust Box. Just in time for the call, "Let's go, Riders," he pulls on his boots and exits with the other jockeys.
THE SADDLING PADDOCK. With his back to the Jockey's Room, John doesn't see his son coming until the Paddock Judge, grinning broadly, asks him to turn around. Earl's appearance immobilizes him for a moment before he hugs Earl, forgetting for the moment the crowd around the Paddock, where eager bettors seek a close look at their choice to win. As John leads the mare around the Paddock and out to the entrance to the track, they hear the Announcer: "State Fair racing fans, we have a pleasant surprise for you. Now coming on the track, riding his dad's mare,
Number 2, Dust Box, we have America's second leading rider, who got his start right here at Lincoln just a few years ago. Let's give Jockey Earl Dew a big Nebraska State
Fair welcome!"
FOLLOWING THE FIELD AS IT BREAKS FROM THE GATE. Earl hustles Dust
Box to an early lead in the five and a half furlong race, and is never headed as they thunder home in front by daylight. The crowd goes wild as Earl canters back to his father for the victory photo in the Winner's Circle, a very proud parent and child the 42 stars of the moment. A radio mike shoved in front of Earl as he dismounts requires an honest appreciation of his dad's training ability in having the mare in top condition to win. Earl informs John he must leave immediately, his flight for San Diego departing in an hour. He is scheduled for eight mounts at Caliente the next day. John waits for him to exit the Jockey's room and walks him to the cab. A few words of thanks are all
John can manage as his son drives away in the cab, but the pride and gratitude in his eyes and voice are unmistakable.
TIJUANA, BAJA CALIFORNIA. JACKIE WESTROPE'S CONVERTIBLE, DRIVING
WESTWARD THROUGH DOWNTOWN. In the late afternoon, following the races at
Agua Caliente, Earl sits beside his friend who has come down to ride a couple head for his trainer dad, William, and a visit with his folks. He offers to drive Earl to San
Diego where he will see his girl, Mary, at her parent's home. Crossing the Border
inspection line he tells Earl he wants to stop at his brother's grave in the cemetery at
Chula Vista. In explanation he tells of his brother's death on the Caliente track a few years ago, his brother also a jockey.
GLEN ABBEY MEMORIAL PARK, CHULA VISTA. A gorgeous panorama
looking out from the hilltop cemetary as Earl and Jackie climb out of the car, standing
in azure to in awe of the Pacific stretching to the horizon resplendency, just beginning
now before reflect the mauves and golden hues of the sunset swinging into action
on a between the and them. The young riders walk back a few yards path graves,
"William T. Jr." Silent a few moments, Jackie pause at the one marked Westrope,
now beneath the red ball turns and walks back to gaze at the sea, turning fiery pink 43 sinking slowly toward the horizon. He recalls their boyhood on the eastern Montana range, where bucking horses were more prevalent than race horses, but Pa's running a few horses at the local fair in Baker and over at Miles City was all it took to convince the Westrope boys that a jockey's life was for them. His folks worried about them when they left home, especially Mom, for she knew the dangers of raceriding close up. She worried "one of us was hangin' on a fence at some bush track, stove up, not able to write home, or too ashamed." He confides that William's death at Caliente was exceptionally trying for the folks because he was their first child. They had exerted a little pressure on Jackie to quit riding after the death, but Jackie knew his career was just beginning to peak and he couldn't bring himself to hang up his tack. Climbing back in the car, as the lights of town below twinkle on, Earl shares his mother's anxiety about his riding accidents, and wishes he could somehow assure her that he will be alright. Jackie deems it an impossible task, given the nature of a mother's love.
SAN DIEGO. THE CORONADO HOTEL DINING ROOM. Earl and Mary are engrossed in conversation over lemonade and cookies, hardly the luncheon fare of their fellow patrons of the aged seaside hotel, once "the place to be seen" for millionaires and movie stars, a favorite watering place for the Pickford-Fairbanks entourage in their day. Earl and Mary realize they have precious little time together because of his transient vocation, and so are already sharing future dreams. Mary wants a home overlooking the ocean, maybe at La Jolla, with a big yard for children and dogs, while Earl wants a farm with pasture for a few good horses. Both are a little 44 non-plussed on how to reconcile such different goals, but Mary reckons that at least they both like animals!
THE SILVER STRAND. They walk slowly down the mile-long Strand, a ribbon of concrete adjacent to the sea, with breakers foaming up on the sands to their right.
Earl relates he is beginning to feel pressured to win every race, now that the newspapers are reporting him close to tying a rider back East named Walter Lee
Taylor for the lead for the national championship. Mary is fascinated by racing, but expresses some anxiety with the safety factor. Doesn't Earl worry, ever, about falling, about getting seriously hurt? Earl tells her he never thinks about injuries, and when they happen he is never fearful when he returns to action. She thinks him terribly brave, but he denies courage has anything to do with it. He likes horses, and is confident he can ride anything on four legs, so it never occurs to him to be afraid on the race track. He assures her that if she will come down to Caliente his competency will relieve her fears. He is not cocky, just confident in his ability to pilot a race horse around the track at 35 miles an hour without getting hurt.
LOS ANGELES AIRPORT, THE PASSENGER LOUNGE. Earl purchases a stamp for the United Airlines postcard he acquired on board the flight from San Diego, and sits down to write a note home to the folks. He pens: "Dear Folks, I am waiting in
Los Angeles for a plane to San Francisco. I rode three winners yesterday in Mexico. I am now two in front of Taylor. I have an hour to wait. Love, Earl. This is the first time
Earl lays claim to leading the national title race, and as he chews pleasurably on his words, addressing the card to "Mr. John Dew, Fifth Street, Sac City, Iowa," a cheerful 45 voice speaks from his right: "Hello there, Mr. Racerider!" Earl's incredulity is obvious as he stands to greet Bing and Dixie Crosby, standing arm in arm. Spotting him across the lobby, Bing has come over to congratulate Earl on winning five out of six
races at Bay Meadows on Friday, a feat published nationwide by the wire services,
fuel adding to the story on the "rivalry" between Dew and Taylor as they vie for the national championship. He wants Earl to ride some two-year olds his trainer is readying for the Santa Anita meet opening just before New Year's. The Crosbys reiterate their congratulations, and say goodbye, Bing waltzing his wife away in the direction of the Honolulu gate: "Mrs. Crosby, care to join me for a little relaxation in the
Island sun?"
THANKSGIVING DAY, THE CLIFF HOUSE RESTAURANT, SAN FRANCISCO.
The Beezleys drive up with Earl, taking advantage of the valet parking, and walk into the Bay City's most advantageous viewpoint for the Seal Rocks below, where hundreds of barking sea lions struggle for space on the sea-washed rocks jutting up through the surf. Offshore the freighters inbound from the Orient take on pilots for the navigation of the Golden Gate, and pass en route the passenger liners outbound for the Islands, Yokohama, and Shanghai. Through the wide windows surrounding the dining room white wisps can be seen drifting across sunlit expanse of ocean as the sea prepares to send ashore its daily cargo of fog. Following their waiter across the crowded room, no table vacant, Beezley is hailed by a chorus of voices. Seated at a prominent center table is a group of kingpins of the American thoroughbred industry.
"Plain Ben" Jones, Calumet Farm's noted trainer of some of the finest race horses in 46 the land, saddler of several Derby winners for the Warren Wrights of Calumet Baking
Powder fame; Mr. and Mrs. Adolph Spreckels, the sugar people, and Mr. and Mrs.
Charles Howard, owners of Seabiscuit, California's challenger to the best horses raced by the East Coast establishment. Questioned by Beezley about his presence so far from Hialeah, Ben Jones admits he is looking at some colts Mr. Wright might be interested in bidding on at the California fall sales. He may also look over the current crop of jockeys plying their trade on the West Coast, for Calumet has not settled on a rider for their 1941 Derby hopeful, Whirlaway. Jones turns his attention to Earl, congratulating him on his lead in the national standings, his five-for-six day at Bay
Meadows, and wonders when they will see him ride in Kentucky? Spreckels warns
Beezley about letting Earl overeat on turkey and dressing this afternoon! Conversation after Earl and the Beezleys depart for their table centers on Earl as a possible contract rider for Calumet. Howard doubts Earl's willingness to part company with Beezley, but
Jones feels Beezley won't discourage his protege if the right contract comes along.
BEEZLEY'S BOX, BAY MEADOWS RACE TRACK. The trainer and wife are marking their program for the afternoon races, chatting about the success their surrogate son is having as leading rider for the meet, winning many more races than the next rider in the standings, and far beyond many more experienced journeymen jockeys. A friend stops to greet them, hands the Boss the Sports Section of the San
Francisco Chronicle. Dated December 4, Beezley reads aloud a minor article, "Jockey
Taylor Fined." From Charlestown, West Virginia: "Jockey Walter Lee Taylor, second to
Earl Dew in the National Jockey race, was fined $25 by the local stewards on charges 47 of hitting Jockey George Cardoza with his whip in Monday's race." Their friend wonders if Dew could handle himself in such rough company as Charlestown's riding colony. Beezley assures him Earl rode the bush tracks and knows how to handle himself around jocks with loose bats. With his departure, Beezley shares his growing concern over the two week hiatus between Bay Meadow's closing and Santa Anita's opening. The new track across the Bay at Albany, Golden Gate Turf Club, is still under construction, although scheduled to open simultaneously with Santa Anita in the southern part of the state. In either case, Earl will miss too many racing days, while
Taylor will ride Charlestown until Tropical Park opens in Miami where he will have plenty of good horses to ride, and the whole horsemen's colony rooting for him.
Somehow they need to prompt Earl to delay his Christmas vacation back home until the championship race is decided on December 31. Earl will have to make time consuming transcontinental flights, and ride Tropical Park through late December until the California tracks open the last week of the year.
DECEMBER 12. MAIN STREET, SAC CITY. Mabel and Grandma Hass are
Christmas shopping, when Mabel spots a headline in the Des Moines paper for sale in front of the Drug Store. Shivering from more than the wintry weather, she reads aloud: "American Air Transport Crashes in St. Louis." The short article reports the plane "crashed in foggy, rainy weather near Lambert-St. Louis Airport, pilots slightly hurt. Four passengers, Stewardess Ruth Arnstad are okay. Chief Pilot Herbert Susott and First Officer Earl Phillips were rescued form the cockpit." Mabel needs a cup of coffee at the Drug Store lunch counter, assuring her mother Earl is coming home by 48 train, and hopes he will never have to travel by "those dangerous airplanes." He will
Christmas with spend the family, his first real vacation at home in several years.
DECK OF THE NORTH ISLAND FERRY, SAN DIEGO HARBOR, THE SAME
DAY. Earl and Mary are crossing the harbor on the short ride carrying liberty-bound crews of the Pacific Fleet to the city. The line of gray ships looms in the background, while overhead a squadron of Navy pursuit planes circles to land at the Naval Air
Station. Earl tells Mary he has decided to travel to Florida and engage Taylor directly for the national title, for he cannot afford to lay out of action two weeks while his rival continues to ride winners on the Eastern tracks. His only hope is to obtain good mounts at Tropical Park, although he knows none of the horsemen there, and few of the riders. Taylor has the distinct advantage of knowing many trainers because he has done most of his riding along the eastern seaboard, from New England to Florida, and he is popular. Nearing the city dock, with sailors crowding forward to exit the boat, Earl realizes he needs to declare his affection for Mary, and attempts to do so in the midst of the noise level now rising. Not a romantic moment, but their moment, for he must catch a plane to San Francisco, and then home for a very brief stop before flying to Miami. As the last sailors pass them, he takes Mary in his arms, and tells her he cares for her. He is not sure what the future holds for him, but he hopes she will wait for his return from Florida so they can talk more about the future. He need have
wait for as she returns his kiss. no anxiety about her willingness to him,
DECEMBER 15. CHICAGO AND NORTHWESTERN STATION, SAC CITY. A
as Earl down to his on the very cold, snow-smattered night steps greet dad, sharing ride home through town that he won the Bay Meadows riding title by almost double the number of winners over the second place jockey, Jack Skelly. Even his friend,
Jackie Westrope, could only manage 15 wins. Earl's 65 wins set a new record, and agents were crowding his every step hoping to engage his services for Golden Gate and Santa Anita, including some important stakes races. He promises his folks a brand new car come spring, maybe a Chrysler or a Buick, whatever they want. Before they reach the house on North Fifth John tells his son of his pride in Earl's championship for the Bay Meadows meet, and affirms his faith that Earl will capture the national championship as well. John's words are so carefully chosen and slowly said it is apparent he has difficulty with personal commendation, even for his own flesh and blood.
DECEMBER 18. THE DEW HOME. Breakfast over, Beth darts out to pick up the morning issue of the Des Moines paper. Huddled around the Sports Section they discover Taylor has ridden more winners at Charlestown: "Jockey Taylor Wins 270th
Winner of the Year." Earl expresses anxiety because he is now only ten winners ahead of his rival, and the season's end is only 13 days away. Earl leaves the table to walk to the barn out back, pulling on a jacket as he goes. Five minutes of "talking" to
Dust box and Daisy in the frigid morning air, steam rising from the horses' nostrils, is all it takes. Coming in he announces he is going to Florida. He has no intention of
Park from losing the championship by default. Taylor will ride top horses at Tropical
be there to obtain the best mounts he the first race on opening day, and Earl must 50 can in order to maintain his lead in the standings. Mabel expresses her concern for winter flying, but to no avail. She hasn't forgotten the St. Louis plane crash.
DECEMBER 19. AMERICAN AIRLINES PLANE, EN ROUTE OMAHA-MIAMI. Earl answers the curious stewardess' question about his reason for going to Miami, confiding he is a jockey "on his way to work." Noticing his size as he boarded, she wondered if he was a rider because she has attended the races in Chicago with her parents. On the small, lightly passengered plane Earl's seatmates have no trouble hearing the conversation, and a man across the aisle recognizes Earl's celebrity status in a loud voice: "Earl Dew! Say, wait'll I tell Maude! And the boys at the barber shop!"
It is clear that while Earl appreciates their enthusiasm he is no way puffed up by it, and yes, he will be glad to give the loud man his autograph, "so's the boys down at Bill's shop'll believe me!"
DECEMBER 20. TROPICAL PARK RACE TRACK, NEAR MIAMI, FLORIDA.
Opening day at South Florida's only rival for Hialeah's popularity as a racing paradise: sunshine, infield lakes, seagulls, waving palm trees, and plenty of high class thoroughbreds. Only the flamingos are missing, and with opening day excitement no one misses them. War may be raging in Europe, the sunlit Atlantic offshore may be host to German submarines sending dozens of Allied ships to a watery grave each week, but today the horses are coming on the track for the first race, and life is good.
THE JOCKEY'S ROOM. Earl is seated alone on a bench, waiting for the
little chance of in the second race, when he will ride a horse accorded finishing
riders his and money, let alone win. A few greet him, acknowledging presence 51 reputation. Walter Lee Taylor enters grinning, having won the first race, and spotting
Earl, walks over to meet his rival. Both men search one another's face for signs of friendliness or its opposite, exchange pleasantries, and wish each other well in pursuit
of the goal only one can win.
DECEMBER 21. RADIO ANNOUNCER ON NATIONAL RADIO HOOKUP,
READING AN A.P. PRESS RELEASE. "Walter Lee Taylor rode one more winner
yesterday and three more today, and thus pulled within easy striking distance of his
rival, Earl Dew. Taylor's spectacular surge forward gave him 274 winners for the year,
only six behind Dew, a recent arrival from California. Taylor scored a major triumph in
today's feature, the $2,000 added Miami Handicap, on E.K. Bryson's Clyde Tolson.
Dew finished in a dead heat for third. Taylor won on Talent, earlier, and Dew was 12th
and last on Pari-Earnest. Taylor's first of the day was on Bell Tower, a favorite, and
Dew was on Wing 1 1th in a field of twelve."
DECEMBER 23. SADDLING PADDOCK. Calumet Farms famed trainer, "Plain
Ben" Jones, the pride of Parnell, Missouri, trainer of Kentucky Derby winners, gives
Earl a chance for a winner today by replacing his own rider when Earl's mount, Light
As Air, is scratched from the fourth race. Now Earl will ride Calumet's Remote
Control, and Ben tells Earl he is pleased to ride him, recognizing he is getting the
at Santa Anita that Earl was poorest of mounts. He has heard from Mrs. Pantages
and has wanted to considered a top rider of two-year olds, a specialty among jockeys,
babies. Earl to the give Earl this chance with one of Calumet's good Lifting saddle,
in Ben wishes him well. Earl's grateful smile pays Ben spades. 52
DECEMBER 24. CHRISTMAS EVE. MARLA'S PALMETTO CAFE, NEAR
TROPICAL PARK TRACK. Earl has found a friend in former champion jockey, Earl
Sande, once immortalized in poetry by New York turf writer, Damon Runyon, as
"Handy Sande." A champion among champions during horse racing's Golden Years following World War I, the years of Man O War and other greats, Sande is training a few horses on the Florida circuit and is sensitive to the huge odds facing Earl Dew.
Seven racing days remain, and Earl's win aboard Conscript in the second today did
little to help his chances when Taylor rode three winners. Earl leads by only three winners now, and remaining at Tropical seems a sure ticket to losing the
championship. Sande commends Earl's natural riding ability and urges him to head west to California as quickly as possible, offering to drive him to the Miami airport.
Earl expresses his reluctance to leave but acknowledges the wisdom of Sande's
counsel.
DECEMBER 25. CHRISTMAS DAY. STARTING GATE, THE THIRD RACE. Earl
on Protest, and Taylor on the symbolically named Best Quality, sit astride their mounts
in adjacent stalls in the gate, glancing at each other before pulling down their goggles.
Taylor does not return Earl's smile as they hunch down over the withers and wait for the start. During the race Taylor finds the rail down the backstretch, with Earl beside him, when the horse outside of Earl's veers in, pushing Protest in toward Best Quality.
Under too much pressure to win, Taylor lashes out with his whip and hits his rival's
move his mount mount across the shoulder. Earl manages to away from Taylor's. 53
THE JOCKEY'S ROOM. Earl faces off with Taylor, both boys hot under the collar, words are exchanged, Earl trying to explain his predicament when crowded from the outside, but words turn to fisticuffs. Earl downs his rival with one swing, and the fight is broken up by the Superintendant of the Jockey's Room.
DECEMBER 26. THE STEWARD'S STAND. Stewards Sam C. Nuchols and
Tom Thorp have arranged a media event: newspaper reporters, photographers, and radio announcers circle the two jockeys as they "make up," for public viewing. In light of the national attention on the championship race, the Stewards have imposed a fifty dollar fine but no time on the ground. National wire services carry the photo story the next day, two young riders shaking hands, Dew smiling at Taylor, Taylor looking down at Dew's collar. The Des Moines Register captions the photo, "All Forgiven,
Forgotten?"
APPROACHING THE STARTING GATE. AN HOUR LATER. Earl's mount,
Stingaling, becomes fractious, suddenly wheeling, rearing, jumps sideways, unceremoniously dumping Earl on the track. Other riders hold their mounts as the
loose horse turns and races off down the track, until picked up by the outrider.
Remounted with the help of the gate crew, Earl's mount is fatigued and listlessly
breaks from the gate and runs dead last down the track, hopelessly behind the field.
with Earl as ride At the Pulling up after the finish, other riders sympathize they by.
to San scales he tells his valet to pack his tack; he is catching the next available plane
Francisco. Stingaling's rodeo performance has convinced him of the truth of Jolson's song, "California. Here I Come!" 54
THAT EVENING. MIAMI AIRPORT. Earl hands his ticket to the stewardess and climbs the ladder to board an American Air Lines plane bound for Nashville. En route he reads Jack Guenther's massive headline in the New York Times: "HUSTLE AND
NERVE MAKE IOWAN A LEADING JOCKEY.' Guenther writes, "It is certain that this nerve-tingling battle for the 1940 jockey title will crowd the Bowl games for headline space until the very end of the year. In fact, a verdict won't be reached until the evening of December 31 when the result of the eighth race at Santa Anita comes ticking in from California. Not until then can the railbirds know for sure if the handsome bronze plaque goes to Earl Dew of Sac City, la. or Walter Lee Taylor of
Houston, Texas. There are only six days of action left on the calendar, yet the two
Johnny-come-latelys are locked tighter than the front doors at Fort Knox." Earl is tired, tense, anxious about obtaining good mounts at Golden Gate and Santa Anita on such short notice. He is missing two racing days by traveling cross country, but has no choice in the matter. Just before leaving Tropical Park a wire from the Boss informed him he must ride at Golden Gate on Saturday or face discipline by the
Stewards. His agent had signed him to ride in the opening day feature race, but Earl had forgotten accepting the assignment several weeks earlier. If he fails to ride the
his chance for the title. Stewards may set him down, completely annihilating
MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT. FORT WORTH AIRPORT. Earl passes through the
Air for sparsely populated terminal, hurrying out to board the American Lines plane
California. A few sleepy ticket agents and passengers watch him curiously as he exits toward his plane. 55
DAWN OVER THE TEXAS TRANS-PECOS. Tawny, bone dry landscape sprawls below as the Stewardess wakens sleeping passengers in preparation for landing at El Paso.
EL PASO AIRPORT. Earl calls Beezley at Golden Gate. So far the State Racing
Commission has refused to allow Golden Gate to open because of continuing heavy rains that have kept the track surface unsafe for racing, but horsemen expect the track will open tomorrow, Saturday. Earl will then be able to fly to San Diego and ride
Caliente on Sunday afternoon, returning to Albany to ride the last two days at Golden
Gate. The Boss cheers Earl and assures him he and Hazel are rooting for him. They are confident he will win the title. Walking back to the gate for his flight to Burbank,
Earl hears his name called from behind, and turns to see a jockey he has competed against at Bay Meadows. Tagged "the Portuguese Pepperpot" by newsmen because of his fiery temper, Ralph Neves is en route from a stakes engagement at New
Orleans to Albany, and Earl is delighted to have a fellow rider's company on the long flight to California. On board Neves queries Earl about his Florida experience and commiserates with him on his poor fortune in obtaining decent mounts. Before long the verbose Neves has Earl fascinated with stories of his riding career, and after lunch relates the hilarious story Earl asks about, having heard brief mention of it in the
his birth date to obtain a Jockeys Room at Bay Meadows. Neves tells of falsifying
the on the riding license at age thirteen, three years before legal riding age recognized
to steal! One afternoon at Meadows a tracks. He was hungry and too nervous Bay
into the rail on the clubhouse turn. He horse trips changing leads and throws Ralph 56 hits so hard he bounces back into the middle of the track and half the field runs over him. He is out cold and no pulse or heartbeat can be discerned by the track physician. The track announcer reports to the crowd: "We regret to inform you the jockey is dead. Please stand in silent prayer." Ralph's body is hauled away in the ambulance, and taken to the hospital in San Mateo. While they notify the morgue to come for him, he is put in cold storage. Ten minutes in that room is all it takes to awaken Ralph. Stuck in the hospital basement he starts yelling. His clothes are missing, so he wraps himself in a sheet and runs out the door, hails a cab and tells the frightened driver to take him to the race track. The next afternoon he wins two races and winds up winning the meet title over Johnny Longden, Jackie Westrope, and Johnny Adams, three of America's saddle elite. He is fifteen years old that year,
1936.
DECEMBER 28. SATURDAY MORNING. BURBANK AIRPORT, THE SAN
FERNANDO VALLEY NEAR LOS ANGELES. Earl approaches the American Air Lines desk for his ticket to San Francisco when he hears the loudspeaker requesting "Mr.
Dew, Mr. Earl Dew, please come to the American Air Lines ticket counter for a message." At the counter he receives a telegram from the Boss, relating that Golden
Gate's opening for tomorrow has been postponed again due to continued steady rains in the Bay Area. Beezley advises Earl to make for Santa Anita, not far away in
Arcadia, and try to obtain mounts for today's races, then ride as planned at Caliente
for Golden Gate's now scheduled for on Sunday before heading north opening
Monday. 57
LATER THAT MORNING. SANTA ANITA RACE TRACK. Standing before a
Steward requesting permission to ride the day's card, Earl finds him ready to help obtain mounts for the afternoon races if any are available. The Steward is sympathetic but doubtful because the riders are assigned for today. Unless one or two give up mounts for Earl's sake he probably won't ride this afternoon. A clerk hands the
Steward the morning Examiner, carrying an A.P. wire release. At the Steward's request the clerk reads it aloud for Earl's benefit: "Miami. Fla. Dec. 27. Jockey Walter
Lee Taylor had four mounts scratched because of sloppy weather at Tropical Park
Friday, but still managed to boot home two winners and tie Earl Dew for 1940 riding honors with 283 victories. Day by day the hard-riding Texan had whittled down Dew's lead. Friday he appeared virtually certain to go ahead of Dew while the latter was flying West to ride in Mexico and California. With the score tied, Taylor has three more days of racing left this year. Dew, on the other hand, has four more days because he expects to be able to take advantage of a Sunday program at Agua Caliente. He
he is booked to ride ten received a wire just before leaving here Thursday night saying
For the weather has races of the 14 scheduled over the Mexican course. Taylor,
made the picture uncertain. No matter how many mounts he is named to ride, he has
will be scratched because of a track." no way of knowing how many muddy
BEEZLEY'S THAT NIGHT. DOWNTOWN TIJUANA, THE MAIN AVENUE. AUTO,
TRACK. A drizzle is It DRIVING EAST TOWARD AGUA CALIENTE RACE light falling.
crowds back and forth the is about 9:00 p.m. and the Saturday night surge along
numbers it half the Pacific Fleet is in Avenida, sailors and Marines in such appears 58 town. Cantinas are jammed, the blare of the mariachi bands competing with auto horns trying to clear a path through the crowds paying little attention to crosswalks.
Earl sits beside the Boss, lamenting his failure to ride even one winner on Santa
Anita's afternoon card. Beezley has flown in from the Bay Area to lend moral support and counsel to Earl at Caliente's races the next day, for it is now a "make or break" situation for a nearly exhausted nineteen-year old jockey. Earl is dead tired from the cross country flights and the emotional stress created by the tight title race, in addition to the fight with Taylor and the refusal of the Florida horsemen to give him decent mounts during his brief stay at Tropical Park. Yet tomorrow, Sunday, he must climb on eight head of temperamental race horses and fling his life on the line with every one of them in an attempt to move ahead in the win column for the championship.
Pulling into the nearly deserted streets of Agua Caliente the rain falls more steadily and
Beezley bemoans the fact that some of Earls' mounts, if they are not scratched the next day, will not be "mudders," horses that run well on a wet track.
DECEMBER 29. SUNDAY AFTERNOON. THE JOCKEY'S ROOM, FOLLOWING
THE THIRD RACE. A happy Earl Dew walks into the room, even the riders he has just beaten congratulating him on winning aboard Kai Shen. Earl is covered with mud,
to the waist to on new finishing strongly late in the race, and immediately strips pull
races and his valet shoves colors. There will be no time for showers between today,
few races more wins. He is now tack to him quickly. His mounts in the next promise
news two winners at one win behind Taylor, last night's reporting Taylor riding Tropical on Saturday's card. 59
THE JOCKEY'S ROOM, FOLLOWING THE EIGHTH RACE. Veteran jockey
Lloyd Knapp, highly regarded by his peers on the California tracks, makes his way through the bunch of mud-streaked riders to Earl's side as he pulls on freshly wiped boots. He informs Earl his own mount in the ninth race, Magnanimous, is a good mudder, and although not favored to win, Knapp is certain Earl can win on him if he rides precisely as Knapp instructs him. The Boss, aiding the valet, urges Earl to take
Knapp's offer, reminding Earl that His Prim is a longshot at 25-1, with no real chance to win the race. Earl agrees, gratefully, and Knapp phones the Steward's stand to request a change of riders. Permission granted, Earl receives Knapp's explicit instructions to "rate this horse, keep him inside. Wait till a mile has been run. You'll have to go through muck and ruin. Stay there till you turn for home, then give him his head."
DUSK IS FALLING DURING THE POST PARADE, EARL ASTRIDE THE BIG
BLACK GELDING, MAGNANIMOUS. The track is a quagmire, churned up by hundreds of hooves through the murky afternoon. During the early footing Earl holds the gelding in reserve until the turn for home, then turning him loose from the bit's demand, scoots between horses on the inside rail and boots the black horse home by three-quarters of a length in semi-darkness. The Track Announcer leads the applause for the rider now tied for the title, "Agua Caliente's own Earl Dew!" He also requests a cheer for Jockey Knapp who conceded a winning mount to Earl, "a horse he has won two previous races on prior to today's card." 60
THE JOCKEY'S ROOM. Pandemonium explodes as Earl comes in, covered
with mud from head to foot, and is thrown into the shower, colors and all, by every
rider in the room. Emerging dripping wet, still fully clothed, Earl grins widely, a
delighted young man, and walks over to an equally happy Lloyd Knapp. A valet
strikes up the chorus to "He's A Jolly Good Fellow," as the riders acknowledge Lloyd
Knapp's good sportsmanship.
DECEMBER 30. MONDAY MORNING. ARCADIA PLAZA HOTEL, NEAR SANTA
ANITA RACE TRACK. Earl, waking in a room that shares a bath with the Beezleys,
hears the radio the Boss has turned on while shaving: "London suffered incendiary
bomb attacks last night, with heavy casualties. For a few hours the incendiaries
popped like starbursts from skyrockets and rained on the streets and rooftops with a
clatter, in some districts of London..." Heading out to the track after a quick bite of
breakfast in the hotel coffee shop, Earl talks very little, and Beezley asks if the cat has
his tongue. Earl is still thinking about the London blitz, and hopes none of the Dew
family relatives live in the bombed areas. Beezley tells him he'd better put his mind on
winning races today, if he wants the championship. Earl wonders if the United States
will enter the war, and what his role would be if it did. Beezley suggests that most jockeys wind up in the Cavalry, breaking horses for the troopers. Earl surmises he
might not mind that so much.
AFTERNOON. SADDLING PADDOCK, TROPICAL PARK RACE TRACK, MIAMI.
Walter Lee Taylor stands with E.K. Bryson, owner of Locked Out, and responds to the
"Rider's Up" call by extending his boot to the trainer's hand, vaulting lightly to the 61 saddle. Rounding the Paddock to exit to the track, several young belles call out, "Do ride a winner for us, Walter Lee!" Taylor grins and waves his bat in return.
MONTAGE OF TRACK SCENES. Taylor entering the gate; pulling down his goggles; the start of the race; following the field down the backstretch, then the stretch run with Locked out getting up to win in the closing strides, beating Wise Dean and
Blue Castle. The Track Announcer reports over the loudspeaker: "Racing fans, coming back to the Winner's circle is Jockey Walter Lee Taylor, Tropical Park's candidate for the national riding championship. Locked Out was his 286th win of the 1940 season.
Let's give Jockey Taylor, the pride of Houston, Texas, a big hand as he unsaddles his mount!"
SADDLING PADDOCK, SANTA ANITA RACE TRACK. Musical Jack's trainer
instructs Earl to "save some ground on the inside if you can, shake him up a little on the turn, and he'll come on for you. Just show him the whip and turn him loose."
THE FIELD, ENTERING THE STRETCH. Earl is flat out over his mount's withers in his classic riding style, hand riding hard for the finish line, crossing ahead by
the crowd. back to the daylight, pulling up around the turn to a roar from Cantering
his "...win number Winner's Circle he hears the Track Announcer completing report:
The crowd is on its feet a 286 for the season for our Jockey Earl Dew..." giving
walks back to the Room. standing ovation as he weighs out and Jockey's
ACROSS LOS ANGELES THAT EVENING. THE BEEZLEY'S DRIVE EARL
the dial on the car for FDR'S TOWARD HOLLYWOOD. Beezley turns radio, searching
The announcer notes that most American's will be tuning their speech to the nation. 62 radios tonight for this speech, that even movie audiences, ordinarily large on Sunday evenings, are staying home in large numbers, or as at Radio City Music Hall, in New
York City, gathering in the Lounge, which will hold a thousand, to hear the President' speech to the nation. FDR's speech will hold the Beezley's and Earl's attention as they cross the city. A short section of his opening sentences will take the trio to their destination, as FDR strongly appeals for the nation's support for England in her struggle against the Axis onslaught, affirms that Britain will not lose the war, and assures Americans that isolationist thinking is wrong, for the Axis control of major
parts of the world is a distinct threat to American hegemony.
THE BROWN DERBY RESTAURANT, HOLLYWOOD. Seated with the Beezleys,
his friend Jackie Westrope and his movie starlet wife, Nan Grey, Earl is awed by the
conversation that shifts constantly back and forth from his chances of winning the title tomorrow, and the passage of various movie stars and their dates through the
restaurant. Jackie seems to know them all, and a few wave as they cross the room.
wishes she could be with them Nan, a pretty girl, reminds Earl of his Mary, and he
tonight. Nan asks Earl about his feelings about tomorrow's races. He reckons he'll
he has some live ones. He feels just try to do his best with every mount, and hopes
he's in the first a called Sub pretty confident about the two-year old riding race, filly
in the and tells Earl she looked Deb. Jackie worked a colt alongside her earlier meet,
on who is with whom the fit Jackie keeps up a running commentary dining among
on to the Trocadero "out on the Sunset movie star elite, and suggests they go later,
" "the rest of the stars." Earl declines with thanks Strip where they are bound to see 63 and asks the Beezleys to take him home or he won't be in shape to ride anything tomorrow!
DECEMBER 31. TUESDAY. SANTA ANITA'S GRANDSTAND, PALMS WAVING
IN WARM BREEZE, CROWDS THRONGING FOR THE LAST RACING DAY OF THE
YEAR. In the Saddling Paddock Earl stands with trainer H.C. Fear, as he saddles Sub
Deb for the first race. Noting Miami is three hours ahead in their schedule, Fear wonders how Taylor is doing with his mounts.
TROPICAL PARK, MIAMI. Lifted to the saddle by Town Miss's trainer, Walter
Lee Taylor's parting quip to him as he adjusts his reins and stirrups is, "Maybe the fourth time's the charm today." During the stretch drive Taylor's mount is far back, finishes last. Rounding the turn and pulling up, Taylor's stirrup strap breaks and he pitches heavily to the turf on the off side, frightening the tired filly who jumps sideways away from the fallen rider, but kicking him as she jumps. The track ambulance arrives to carry Taylor the infirmary. Against the best advice of the physician he insists on a ride back to the Jockey's Room, but even with help from the driver he cannot walk. He asks the Custodian of the Room to wire Earl Dew as follows: "Well, kid, the best man won. Congratulations."
SADDLING PADDOCK, SANTA ANITA. While Earl and Trainer Fear are conversing a valet hurries from the Jockey's Room, to whisper a message in Earl's
Earl. has ear. Sensing a possible story, a Herald-Examiner newsman queries Taylor
will been hurt in a fall, and will not ride out the day! Earl's response be reported nationwide: "Gee, that's too bad. I wanted him to ride today. If I should have a 64 winner I'd now, sort of hate to win that way. I'd just as soon have a tie under the circumstances. Do you know if he was badly hurt? I hope not."
THE POST PARADE. The track announcer, having been apprised of Taylor's situation, decides not to inform the crowd until Earl's opportunity to take the championship has been decided. Approaching the starting gate, Earl smiles at rival riders as they lower goggles and enter the gate. Breaking with the field, Sub Deb races well until the turn for home when Bukhara II. on the inside of Earl's mount, drifts out, carrying Sub Deb toward the middle of the track, but responding to his whip and hand ride, Earl's filly finishes first by a short head. As the field pulls up, the official order of finish is put up on the tote board, and the announcer reports that Jockey Earl
Dew has won the National Jockey Championship for 1940, as Jockey Taylor was injured and canceled his remaining mounts. Pandemonium occurs throughout the grandstand and usually more conservative Clubhouse patrons.
RIDING BACK TO THE WINNER'S CIRCLE, Earl is all smiles, waving his whip to the Stewards as required by protocol, then waving it happily to the cheering fans and fellow riders, who crowd around him on the way to the scales. A spontaneous celebration follows in the Jockey's Room, with applause, backslapping, and cheers from riders and valets. A call down from the Stewards Stand relays the congratulatory telegram from Taylor. Earl is shyly happy through all this commendation, eager to get
on the to a phone to call home, and Mary in San Diego. Unable to get through phone, Earl wires the news: "DEAR FOLKS I WON THE CHAMPIONSHIP. A VERY
HAPPY NEW YEAR. LOVE, EARL." Mary is delighted as they share the good news, 65 and hopes Earl will come to visit her if he rides at Caliente on the weekend. He acknowledges his hope to see her before he travels home for a much needed rest, but doubts he can do it. There is poignancy in their conversation, almost as if the horses will always be there between them, somehow an identifiable but unspoken detriment to their relationship.
SAC CITY, THE DEW HOME. Mr. Johnson hand delivers Earl's championship telegram, creating a flood of relief and happy emotion in the family circle as they think of all the phone calls they must make around town to family and friends.
THE BACKSTRETCH, SANTA ANITA. Late afternoon in the barn area, and two emotionally exhausted men walk along the road between the rows of barns, thoroughbreds watching them from the stalls. A few grooms lounge under the shedrows, but none call out to the men passing by. It is a very private moment for
Earl and his Boss. Beezley tries to tell his protege of his pride in Earl's accomplishment, and Earl tries to share his feelings of gratitude to the Boss for the
and the of their years of training, encouragement, generosity, importance relationship
to his "son" for the inevitable as a kind of race track family. Beezley attempts prepare
Earl will receive parting that must soon take place as a result of the championship.
ride contract on horses offers from some of the nation's largest stables, offers to top
cloud the issue. The in the biggest stakes races, and he must not let his emotions
cannot allow his for Beezley stable is small potatoes by comparison and Earl feelings
for advancement in his the Beezleys to keep him from taking the best possible offer
with on their mutual career. The sun will set on this emotional scene, Beezley drawing 66
of knowledge the way in which a mare weans her colt by pushing it away with increasing frequency as it tries to nurse until it decides to graze and not return to the udder. Beezley assures Earl the time has come to go grazing for the best food because he and Hazel have done all they can for their "Butch."
JANUARY 5, 1941. THE BOARD ROOM, NEW YORK JOCKEY CLUB, NEW
YORK CITY. The moguls of racing discuss the relative merits of two newspaper columns: Oscar Otis' column in the San Francisco Chronicle, dated January 2, and today's John Lardner column in the New York Times. Otis calls for official recognition of Earl Dew's jockey championship by the racing community, and names The Jockey
Club of New York as the logical body within racedom to give the new champion an appropriate emblem signifying the American championship. Otis is even more specific, advocating the Jockey Club give Earl a $1 ,000 wristwatch, perhaps a Patek-Philippe,
"which wouldn't be too much honor for a youngster who has made turf history." If,
Otis says in laying down the gauntlet, the Jockey Club can't see it, "why not have the
California Racing Commission adopt the plan?" Following some expression of ruffled feathers among the titans of thoroughbred racing, they read aloud part of Lardner's column which lauds Earls' horsemanship, and compares him favorably to Eddie
Arcaro, the accepted emperor among current jockeys. Lardner rates Earl higher than
in Taylor based on the opinion of trainers who have seen both of them action.
Recording their opinion of "that California reporter's impertinence in publicly putting the
and cost of a Swiss Club on the spot, even to the extent of suggesting the make 67 timepiece," they decide on a suitable trophy for the mantle, "if they have such things out in Iowa."
JANUARY 6. THE DEW HOME, SAC CITY. Earl and his dad play checkers on a card table in the living room, while Beth does home work, Mabel reading to Dale and baby Larry. A phone call reveals Calumet Farms, Lexington, Ky. is interested in obtaining a contractual relationship with the new champion. Calumet's trainer, "Plain
Ben" Jones, explains Warren Wright's concern for finding just the right jockey for
Calumet's 1941 season, for they are sure they have a prospective Kentucky Derby winner in Whirlaway, and likely the Triple Crown winner. Mr. Wright believes his colt can win the Preakness and the Belmont as well. Therefore Mr. Wright wants Earl Dew as his jockey. Earl gulps a hesitant thank you, and promises to give their offer serious consideration. Following general rejoicing among the family, John reminds Earl the press will be present in numbers at Des Moines tomorrow night when the Ford
Dealers will fete Earl and champion baseball pitcher of the year, Bob Feller, hero of the
Cleveland Indians, at a special evening of recognition for Iowa's two sports champions of the 1940 season. Earl had better be careful about a presumptuous announcement of a possible tie with Calumet, based on a single phone conversation with Mr. Jones, warns daddy. JANUARY 7. CONVENTION HALL, DES MOINES. THE FORD MOTOR
COMPANY STATE DEALER'S CONVENTION. Earl, his family, and Bob Feller and family are seated at the head table on the platform. Feller speaks first, sharing a few highlights of his winning season with the Indians, followed by Earl's brief talk about the competition with Taylor for the riding title. After the speeches the photographers 68 request pictures, one suggesting Earl atop Feller's shoulders, which appears across the nation on the wire services. Another reporter queries Earl about injuries, who admits they are possible even when no other horses are near, if the horse ducks at a shadow. "So, I reckon we think about it once in awhile, but we don't worry about it."
JANUARY 8. THE HIGH SCHOOL, SAC CITY. A community celebration honoring Earl's accomplishment, 225 present in the school gym. Teachers and friends laude the hero with brief speeches, with friend and early racing mentor Jim
Lake and attorney John A. Schulte recalling Earl's first racing lessons on the local tracks, and Shulte's making of the contract with Lyman Reed. The principal caps the evening with humorous remarks about Earl's "education," stating "we suspected the greater part of Earl's learning interests lay outside these hallowed walls, and it looks like we were right." The school band finishes the evening with a rousing march or two, led enthusiastically by the flushed director in a too tight collar.
JANUARY 15. C & N TRAIN STATION, SAC CITY. Earl says goodbye to family and friends as he departs for California to resume his riding career. He is still undecided about Calumet's offer, for his loyalty to Beezley remains strong. The atmosphere at the station as they await the train for Omaha is lighthearted, except for
John and Mabel, who appear serious, sober, almost sad by comparison with Earl's school chums and relatives, chiding him not to forget his friends now that he is
normal famous. Earl's embracing of his folks somehow invokes a solemnity beyond parting for family members. 69
JANUARY 17. OAKLAND TRAIN STATION. Last stop on the transcontinental
rail line before San Francisco. Here the train is loaded onto the ferry for the Bay
crossing. Earl descends to the platform to meet the Beezleys, complaining of not feeling well, less so as the train came west. Hazel insists on a doctor visit in the
morning.
JANUARY 18. OAKLAND GENERAL HOSPITAL. Earl lies in bed on a ward, the
Beezleys conversing with the doctor about his health. The physician finds nothing very
wrong with Earl, primarily a case of nervous exhaustion, the remedy being total rest for
at least a week, the prescription: no riding. Beezley agrees to oversee Earl's recovery,
with "Mother Hazel's" firm help.
JANUARY 20. THE OAKLAND HOTEL. Hazel helps the bellboy sent up by the
hotel kitchen with Earl's breakfast, as Beezley comes in from the morning workouts at
Golden Gate Turf Club. Earl complains about the imposed rest period, stating he is fit
and ready to resume riding. Hazel reiterates the doctor's orders: no riding for at least
a week. The Boss throws Earl a Racing Form. "Doc didn't say you couldn't read
about racing, Butch!" He promises Earl can come out to the track and watch the
it. workouts in a few days, and begin galloping a few when the doctor okays
JANUARY 25. GOLDEN GATE TURF CLUB, ALBANY, CALIFORNIA. A foggy
horses back morning on the Bay. Out of the thick mist Earl canters one of Beezley's
Earl the to the gap, where Beezley stands, stopwatch in hand. reports gelding's
view the Queried about progress on the frontside obscured from the trainer's by fog. 70
his strength, Earl assures the boss he is fit again, legs strong, eager to ride races,
hopefully tomorrow.
RACING SECRETARY'S OFFICE. Later that morning, watching the boss make
his entries for the next day's races, Earl is hailed by a clerk carrying a wire from Judge
George Schilling, Chief Steward at Agua Caliente track: "The Agua Caliente Jockey
Club and your many fans here request the honor of your presence on Sunday,
February 2, to receive the trophies emblematic of the 1940 Jockey Championship.
Please RSVP as soon as possible." Reading it aloud to Beezley and assembled
Earl demurs. friends, He doesn't want to go. The Boss sternly reminds Earl he has no
choice in the matter. He and Hazel and the whole racing community at Golden Gate
will see to it he appears at Caliente if they have to tie him up and ship him south by
rail! "Besides, one of the trophies is something you'll want, Butch!"
FEBRUARY 2. SUNDAY MORNING. LINDBERGH FIELD, SAN DIEGO. With the
Beezleys, Earl walks off the plane to greet Mary, eagerly awaiting their arrival. During
the drive to Caliente Earl explains his perturbance over his phone conversation last
night with his folks. Dad didn't turn down his offer to buy them a farm near Sac City
but he expressed anxiety that Earl would be taken in by some sharp California
operator in trying to arrange the financing. Earl assured dad his banker friend in San
Francisco was knowledgeable and trustworthy, and between them they would land the
best deal on a good Iowa farm, "maybe the place Roy Olson is living on, or over where Carter used to live." Mary and Hazel try to assure Earl he'll win his parents
confidence in his business acumen in due time; meanwhile he is to enjoy this day of 71
days. To assuage his hurt feelings the Boss lets him in on a little secret. By the
grapevine he has learned the Agua Caliente management will give Earl an expensive
"fancier'n gold watch, anything you ever seen, Butch! They's a diamond for every
number on the dial, I hear." Earl's exultation over this news drowns out anxiety about
farm purchases. Hazel reminds Earl the Jockey Club of New York is also presenting
him with a for grand trophy the fireplace mantel back home, "too big to carry around
with you, so you'll have to go home more often to see it than you've been doing
lately." Pulling into the Mexican village surrounding the track the Beezley automobile is
full of very happy people.
THE BACKSTRETCH BARN AREA. Earl and Mary stroll arm in arm along the
shedrows, chatting happily about the afternoon events soon to begin. Mary regrets he
feels obliged to ride a few races for trainers who have been kind to him in helping him
reach the championship. She wishes they could "just sit up there with the Beezleys
and watch the races together till they call you up on the platform to get your trophies,"
but Earl is adamant. He has to ride "five or six head, and anyway, a lot of them folks
came down here today to see me ride, not just get a couple presents." Along the way they meet Hank Nagel and Verl Ruiggenberg, converse a few moments, and the men escort the couple back to the Grandstand. Earl tells Mary he'll see her after the presentation, promising to wave to her from the infield platform if she will wave her handkerchief so he can spot her in the Beezley box. Mary glances around shyly, hoping for privacy, and pops a kiss on a surprised jockey who promises to collect another right after the races. 72
THE JOCKEY'S ROOM. Riders crowd around Earl as he enters, clapping him on the back, kidding him about being "the champ," offering to ride his best mounts this year if he tires of "hauling all them swell trophies around with your tack." Earl takes the good natured kidding with quiet aplomb, obviously enjoying the camaraderie and commendation of his peers. Talking with his valet he expresses regret he failed to win one for the Boss yesterday at Golden Gate when "old Battle Hymn just ran outa gas on us."
BEEZLEY'S BOX. The Boss reiterates Mary's earlier sentiment that "Earl ought to be up here watching these races and not out there riding." Hazel comments that
Earl has earned a day of rest, "especially when he's already proved he's the best rider in the country, for Pete's sake!" All three reflect some tension despite the happy-go- lucky atmosphere emanating from the largest crowd in track history, estimated at
20,000 by the track announcer. Mary is delighted by the gaily decorated platform constructed for the championship presentation to take place midway through the afternoon program, but sees by her watch she can't wait longer for it. Her job as usherette will be in jeopardy if she is five minutes late at the theater in San Diego.
Hugged by the Beezleys, she departs hurriedly in the direction of the parking lot.
Hazel promises to wave her hanky for her and explain to Earl later about her departure.
THE FIELD FOR THE THIRD RACE ENTERS THE TRACK, THE BUGLER
SOUNDING 'BOOTS AND SADDLES.' Earl waves his whip at the throngs lining the rail, a wave of emotion rising from the stands as 20,000 racing enthusiasts cheer the 73
national champion. The usually sedate Stewards join in the applause, Judge Schilling
leading the bunch. Riding Bosca, a five-year old mare, in the $700 claiming race for a
$500 purse, Earl looks every bit the modest champion. Approaching the gate his fellow riders kid him with offers to lay back and let him float home in front "so's them
bettors can brag on you more after the races." The field loaded, they break, and the
race is under way. Fans are yelling for Bosca to win, even those who bet against her, as the field pounds down the backstretch and turns for home. Spotting an opening
close to the rail, Earl shakes the mare up, giving her more rein, and drives between
horses with an apparent good chance to win as Bosca responds to her rider's urging.
Earl's distinctive style, flattened out across the mare's withers, pulls an appreciative
crescendo of uproar from the crowd, all on their feet, cheering for their hero.
Suddenly, Bosca stumbles, lurches. Later that night Dr. Eugene W. George's autopsy will evidence an aneurism causing instant death. Earl tries to hold her up with his
reins as she falls, but he is thrown forward from the saddle and lands heavily on his
head and shoulders, rolling as he hits. Billy Pearson on Draco and Jack Haycock on
Whiz Shot cannot avoid the fallen mare and both horses go down. The rest of the field thunders on to the finish line, only the last riders aware of the accident and
looking back as they cross under the wire.
BEEZLEY'S BOX. Beezley and Hazel are on their feet and running for the stairs
as Earl rolls and lies still on the turf. Stillness comes over the crowd after the initial
and in gasp of shock and unbelief. The track announcer pleads for quiet requests
English and Spanish that those who know how to pray might do so. His explanation 74
that "these accidents do happen in racing" falls on flat ears and heavy hearts as valets
and officials rush to the fallen rider. A complete hush falls over the immense crowd,
straining now to see what has happened to Earl, lying on the turf, blood on his face.
Siren silent as it wheels down the track, the ambulance drivers jump out and kneel over Earl, who makes an effort to sit up. Someone wipes his face, revealing only a
superficial forehead cut. With the medics helping, Earl stands and walks, unsteadily, to the ambulance, climbs in as a great cheer goes up from the stands. Stopping at the Judges stand, Earl talks briefly with Judge Schilling, reporting only a headache,
but is ordered to the infirmary for examination.
THE INFIRMARY. Lying on the table, Dr. E.H. Crabtree and Dr. A. Gonzales
examine Earl, cleansing the facial wound and probing for broken bones. Still
complaining of headache, Earl is ordered to nap for an hour or so. Dr. Crabtree
promises the trophy presentation can be held later in the day, and advises Judge
Schilling by phone that Earl will be ready for the ceremony between the 8th and 9th
races. Lying next to Earl on another table, unaware of Jack Haycock's spill, Billy
Pearson turns on his side. "Two of us falling in one race is too much. Wanna ride in the next race?" Earl still complains of a hurting head, and takes the nurse's advice to
drowse off. Awaking later, he walks with another rider to the Steward's stand and
them his head still not as much chats for a few moments with them, assuring hurts but
tells him to rest and be for the now as earlier. Judge Schilling prepared ceremony just
would like to see that watch I've heard two races away. Earl opines he "sure gold
about." The judges smile at one another, and Judge Schilling pulls the long thin box 75 from his coat pocket. Earl's eyes outshine the diamonds flashing light from the
numerals on the dial. "Boy, Judge, I'll be there alright!"
AT THE BOTTOM OF THE STAIRS Earl is met by the Beezleys, who walk him in the direction of their box, explaining Mary's departure, and hearing Earl's confession that he is glad she missed the spill. He hopes she will not be too frightened when she hears of it later on the radio, and that seeing his trophies will persuade her a jockey's life has its rewards. He will call her at home after the races as planned, before flying back to San Francisco. Mentioning thirst, they stop at the refreshment bar near the
parimutuel windows. Tilting his head back for a sip of the iced lemonade, Earl starts to lift his other hand to his forehead, then slumps forward. Hazel's cry brings help quickly, Earl lying across Beezley's arms, back against the stand's wall. Dr. Crabtree appears, and call for an ambulance. The same crew appears with a stretcher, and
Earl is carried through the grandstand doors to the waiting car. Dr. Crabtree advises the Stewards of the relapse, and strides to the ambulance, climbing in beside Beezley, who asks permission to accompany his "son." Granted, he sits back while Dr. Crabtree examines Earl, now unconscious. As the ambulance wails through Agua Caliente and into Tijuana, honking loudly at pedestrians and cars, the nurse readies a hypodermic and hands it to Dr. Crabtree. Beezley holds Earl's limp hand, anguish written across
his face. As the car crosses the Tijuana River bridge into the border check area it is waived through by both Mexican and American guards, and speeds up as it heads toward San Diego's Mercy Hospital. Just after Dr. Crabtree administers a second 76
hypodermic to aid Earl's weak pulse, he opens his eyes, smiles at the Boss and
murmurs, "Boss..tell Dad and Mom.. I..."
MERCY HOSPITAL, SAN DIEGO. THE EMERGENCY ROOM. Word has already
spread across the border that America's champion jockey is seriously hurt. Reporters crowd the entrance door, photographers with them. When Dr. Crabtree exits the
room they press him for news: "Is Dew alright, Doc? Is he hurt bad? How did it
happen, can you tell us, Doc? Did you see the accident?" Holding his hand up for quiet, Dr. Crabtree informs them of Earl's death due to a cerebral hemorrhage caused
by a fractured skull suffered in the fall from Bosca. The newsmen rush for telephones,
hoping to be the first to break the news nationwide. A lone figure emerges from the
emergency room, shoulders slumped. Walking out into the dusk, Beezley leans
against a curbside mailbox and cries.
THAT EVENING. THE DEW HOME, SAC CITY. From without the scene is
reminiscent of Christmas Eve, with cars and pickups parked along the road near the
house, the bright windows revealing a house full of family and friends crowding the
living room and kitchen. A celebration is in progress, timed to coincide with the trophy
presentation in Baja California, three hours earlier on the winter clock. Popcorn,
cakes, pies, and plenty of hot coffee feed the well wishers standing shoulder to
shoulder in the little house. Grandpa Hass is holding center stage, bragging on Earl's
raceriding accomplishments, showing his beloved scrapbook to all who will pay
attention. Most are interested in talking about the imagined pomp and circumstance
and at Earl's of the trophy presentation guessing emotions when he receives the big 77
and his trophy diamond-studded wristwatch. Assuming the doorbell announces another Dale it to neighbor, opens admit an ashen Clint Johnson. Making his way through the crowd, all greeting him and offering coffee, he locates John and Mabel in the kitchen doorway, bringing more cookies into the living room. As he lifts the
to hand it telegram to John, Mabel's long feared premonition catches up with her. Her hand covers her mouth to stifle a gasp. Clint can only manage, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Taking the telegram, John stares at its address: "San Diego, Calif Feb 2,
1941." He forces himself to read on: "It is my sad duty to inform you the details of what happened in the case of your beloved boy..." Mabel wavers momentarily and faints. Someone grabs the phone and calls the doctor, while women run to the bathroom for smelling salts. During the loud chatter claiming disbelief in the tragedy,
Clint Johnson walks out into the frigid night air and stands looking up into the canopy of stars over western Iowa.
FEBRUARY 3. MONDAY. THE HASS FARM, SAC CITY. The Dew family gathers to talk, still in shock, many still in denial. Grandpa is clearly taking charge, walking around the room, passing coffee, hugging the disconsolate. Love holds them together, but they are living in that anesthetic world where the deepest emotional pain
no one in humans are capable of bearing is dulled by the mercy of God. Talking to particular, John announces "the Benbough Funeral Parlors in San Diego wired last
I mean.. his He adds that night to say that Earl would arrive Thursday morning.. body."
California all the expenses in California were paid by the Baja Jockey Club, including the train expenses to Sac City. 78
THE REV. MR. CREWDSON'S CAR, PULLING INTO THE HASS' DRIVE. In his wisdom Grandpa has arranged for the pastor to arrive during the family gathering. Ira
Crewdson is not one for platitudes, and when the family turns to him for consolation he doesn't fail them. Sitting in the circle of chairs drawn around him, he shares his own feelings about Earl. His main point is his belief that Earl died doing the one thing he loved most, and no matter how others would have wanted him to live out his life, they would not have wanted to be part of a group denying Earl his heart's desire. For
Earl not to ride race horses in order to avoid accidents, even his last on Mexican soil far from home and loved ones, would have been an ugly form of torture that ultimately would have killed his joyful spirit. Grandpa clears his throat and confesses something to the family he has withheld for some years. When Earl returned home from one of his earliest riding adventures with a broken collarbone, he had confided in his family ally his experience in falling from a thoroughbred on the Minnesota county fair track.
"Grandpa," Earl had said, "I wasn't scared a bit while I was rolling under the rail. I just lay there thinking, "This is gonna happen again. Maybe some day it won't even hurt.
Then I was Maybe I'll just wake up in heaven and it won't ever hurt again. happy,
tells the have heard Grandpa. I was, sure enough." Pastor Crewdson family they just
will ever hear. John a the best sermon on the meaning of eternal life they manages
The visit has done its smile as he sits with his arm around Mabel's shoulder. pastor's
to the with intended work. Hope is alive in the room as he leaves. Exiting porch
reminds the old man that Mabel needs Grandpa and John at his side, the pastor
the funeral on afternoon. He constant surveillance between now and Thursday 79 especially hopes the will be in family prayer for her because of her frailty and emotional stress.
THE CORONADO HOTEL, THE SILVER STRAND, SAN DIEGO. Mary sits alone at a window table in the dining room, staring out to sea. Before her on the table is a copy of the San Diego Union carrying the headline, "EARL DEW, U.S. JOCKEY
CHAMP, DIES AFTER FALL AT CALIENTE." It is evident to the few diners at nearby tables she is crying quietly. After a few moments a waitress approaches and asks if she can help. Seeing the grief in Mary's eyes, she catches sight of the headline.
"Honey. .was he..your boy friend?" Mary takes a telegram from her bag and hands it to the waitress. It reads: "Mary. Missed you at theater. Flying to Omaha. Earl told me he loved you and hoped you could marry. Thought you should know. So sorry he's gone. God bless. Earl Beezley." A compassionate hug from the waitress is a wordless expression of comfort for a deeply distressed young lady.
FEBRUARY 6. THURSDAY AFTERNOON, THE DEW HOME, SAC CITY. The
Dew family walks out the front door to the funeral car provided by the A.G. Neal Co.
With a motorcycle police escort the car proceeds along Fifth Street to the center of town, the driver finding bumper to bumper traffic until they reach Main Street where the first officer stops traffic to let them turn up the hill toward the high school. Many
in for their men crowding the sidewalks with their families remove their hats respect neighbors grief. All stores and schools are closed, only the restaurants are open to feed the out-of-towners. 80
THE HIGH SCHOOL, A FEW BLOCKS OFF MAIN STREET. The long, two
not Art Deco story, quite structure reflects the conservative, fairly prosperous economy of Sac County's boast as "The "Popcorn Capital of the World." This afternoon parking is impossible within blocks of the school, for 2,500 people are trying to make their way into the auditorium for Earl's funeral service. Uniformed Fire Department men assisted by the American Legion direct traffic past the school as the Neal Family Car arrives at the main door. The hearse is already parked, with pallbearers standing by. As the
Dews pass they turn to carry the silver-hued coffin into the school.
SCHOOL AUDITORIUM. 2 p.m. Rev. Crewdson begins with the familiar words:
"I am the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord; he that believeth in me, though he
were dead, yet shall he live; and whosever liveth and believeth in me shall never die."
Flowers are banked high across the entire width of the stage behind him, wreathes,
bouquets, horseshoe-shaped, heart-shaped, every shape imaginable. There can be
few cut flowers left in western Iowa on this afternoon. Choir and orchestra lead the
massed rows of adults and Earl's schoolmates in worship before Rev. Crewdson
delivers his eulogy and message. Somehow his concluding eulogy thoughts manage
will be remembered to match Grandpa Hass's words at the farm on Monday: "He long
himself and his friends by the multitudes to whom he had endeared by many personal
knew what he wanted to and who knew him as a modest, unassuming boy, who do,
did it."
RACCOON RIVER BRIDGE. CORY GROVE CEMETARY, ACROSS THE
the Car over the narrow span above Motorcycle escort ahead, the hearse leads Family 81 the small stream now frozen solid bank to bank, fifty feet below. In the Family Car
John recalls how often he and Earl fished the stream when Earl was small, how proud
Earl was of his first little bass when he brought it home to Mama to cook for dinner.
Mabel is not ready for reminiscence, and sinks deeper into the seat, clutching baby
Larry to her.
THE GRAVESIDE SERVICE is short, simple, comforting for the two hundred or
so gathered around the Dew family plot. Rev. Crewdson points out the extraordinary
blanket of exotic flowers already freezing in the biting wind blowing wisps of snow
across the cemetary from the snow-covered fields beyond the road. Bing Crosby has
sent a carpet of orchids to cover the entire grave site, causing a quiet chorus of
appreciation in response. Rev. Crewdson doesn't preach in the bitter cold, but he
does ask the gathered to remember that Earl is presently experiencing the warmth of
heaven, that his spirit is at home with the Lord, and with almost a twinkle in his eye,
in asks them to suppose that "just maybe the Lord will let Earl have his wish to ride
the Kentucky Derby, if they have such things up there in heaven."
DISSOLVE TO CHURCHILL DOWNS, AMERICA'S PREMIER RACE TRACK, ON
the track in DERBY DAY, MAY 3, 1941. The red-coated bugler strides sedately onto
front of the packed grandstand, and blows the sound loved by racing people
of the traditional, everywhere, "Boots and Saddles." Then as the strains nostalgic
wafts from the bandstand, we see Stephen Foster's "My Old Kentucky Home" skyward
onto the track: Adams on the first of the field of three year-old colts walk Johnny
Basil James on Blue Pair. But it is the Swain, followed by George Woolf on Staretor, of the appearance fourth horse that drowns out the band as the announcer says,
"Ladies and gentlemen, now coming on the track is Calumet Farm's entry, Whirlaway, ridden by America's champion jockey of the 1940 season, Jockey Earl Dew of Sac
City, Iowa! Let's hear it for our national champion racerider, Earl Dew!"
FADE OUT. Over repeated scenes from earlier in the film, beginning with the match race he flagged inexpertly for his dad as an eight year-old lad, will appear these words: "Calumet Farms colt, Whirlaway, won the Kentucky Derby, the Preakness
Stakes, and the Belmont Stakes, racing's coveted Triple Crown, ridden by Jockey
Eddie Arcaro. The horse is buried on the Calumet Farm at Lexington, Kentucky."