Teach
03-24-2015, 11:44 AM
“First-race pacers,” I said, “now leaving the paddock for the post parade. I continued, “A number one in the field is Kay’s Andy Dandy…” I remember it like yesterday - although it was over thirty years ago – December 2, 1983. I was at Foxboro Raceway in Foxboro, MA (now part of a Gillette Stadium parking lot). My long road to the announcer’s booth is worth looking back at, reminiscing about.
Turn the clock back some thirty years to the early 1950s. I was living with my parents and younger brother in third-floor apartment building in the Dorchester-Mattapan section of Boston. At the time, I was about eleven-years old. My father, who I would later learn, loved to play the horses, had bought me a horse-racing board-game. Well, the game had this board that depicted a horse racing oval. There were slots for six horses (the spaces on the board depicted movement around the track; they became wider as one moved out from the infield).
Well, my job was to put five dies (dice) into a cup. Shake the cup, release the dice and then move the different-colored metal horses around the board. If say, the one die came up twice, then I moved the #1 horse forward two spaces.
What I loved about all this was the excitement of moving the metal horses around the track, but even more, my father’s race calls. I must say, in hindsight, he really got into it. My father had names for every horse. I particularly remember “Citation” (1948 Triple Crown winner). But there was also horses named: “Coaltown”. “Middleground”. “Seabiscuit.”
I can still hear my father, now: “That’s Citation moving quickly in contention on the outside…” Or, “Middleground is gaining ground along the rail.” I loved every second of it.
Well, I would outgrow that horse-racing board game, but I never forgot the enjoyment and, the father-son bonding, that the activity brought.
Years would go by. I would begin my teaching career. I would get married. And, I would move out to a Boston suburban area called MetroWest. I would supplement my teaching salary by working part-time for a local newspaper.
One night, I’ll never forget, I was doing re-writes when the sports editor asked the bunch of us if anyone knew anything about harness racing (of course I did. I had bet on both thoroughbred and harness races since I was a teenager). I volunteered to cover a harness racing awards dinner at Foxboro Raceway.
Well, that evening I would meet the then the publicity director at Foxboro Raceway, the late Joe Hartmann. Joe and I hit it off. Joe told me that he was leaving soon to become the publicist at PA’s Pocono Downs. He then asked, “Do you know anyone who might be interested in the publicist’s job here at Foxboro Raceway?” He added, “That person will have to call the first race each weekday night”.
Soon after Joe finished, I told him that I had good writing skills, knew a good deal about harness racing and that I could handicap (the track put out a tip sheet each night) the tip sheet. I did say that I had never called a harness race, although I had called hundreds of high school football, basketball and baseball games.
It was then that Joe said, “We have qualifiers coming up this Tuesday morning. If you can get away, why don’t you come down (he said he would alert the staff) and we’ll get you up in the announcer’s booth. There’s a pair of binoculars in the cabinet.” I recall Joe saying, “Bring your tape recorder.”
Well, qualifying Tuesday arrived. I found my way up to the announcer’s both. Talk about a panoramic view. I found the binoculars. I was given a run-down sheet of the horses seeking to qualify (no saddle-cloth colors). I remember the first-race pacers leaving the paddock. Calling into the tape recorder would, in hindsight, turn out to be the easiest part. About a minute later, six pacers were lined up across the track behind the starter’s car. On Foxboro’s then half-mile track, they were released in front of me.
What transpired next was well one of the most frustrations and, I might add, disappointing times in my harness racing life. I just couldn’t pull the trigger. I was hemming and hawing. I called a name here, a position there. Frankly, I was terrible.
Before I left, I remember leaving the tape of my race call for Joe Hartmann. In hindsight, I probably shouldn’t have even bothered.
A few days later I would meet with Joe. Joe came right out and candidly called it as it was (or what it wasn’t): “Walt,” he said, “I can’t bring this to management.” I remember him saying that I had a lot of the qualities the track was looking for in a publicist, but we need someone who can call that first race.
Just as I was leaving I said, “Joe, would you give me one more chance.” I remember adding, “I know I can improve off that.” He said, “O.K., Walt, but we’ve got to do this quickly because management wants someone in place very soon. I’m leaving for Pocono, soon,” he added.
To make a long story, short. I went back again to call qualifiers. In the interim, I practiced like crazy. I even went to Foxboro one evening and tape-recorded the regular announcer, a man named Wally Cryan, a Providence TV News personality
Well, this time around up in the announcer’s booth I was better. To say much better, that might have been a reach.
In a tale out of school, I didn’t immediately leave the tape of my race call for Joe Hartmann. I edited it. You see I had access to a Marlborough, MA radio station. I transferred my cassette tape on to a reel-to-reel. I voiced in edits where there were gaps. In the end, my race-call tape was “tight”. At least as tight as I could make it.
The next day I brought to Joe Hartmann at the Raceway my tape. Joe listened. I remember him saying to me when it was over, “Walt, this is much better. A vast improvement over your first effort. I’m going to recommend you to management.” A few days later I was offered the job. I accepted. I would call my first “live” race a few days later.
As I think back over thirty years, I’ll never forget that evening. It was a dream come true. It was like reliving that horse-race game that my Dad and I would play on that old wooden kitchen table in our Boston apartment building. I was again shaking the dice and moving the horses the appropriate number of spaces, and my Dad calling the races. I can still hear him now, “And at the wire it’s the Triple Crown winner, Citation, by two lengths.”
Sadly, my father never got to hear me call a race. He had died about five years ealier in the summer of 1979. But I knew he was there with me in spirit. I knew he would have been bursting with pride to see and hear his son, the young boy who rolled the dice and moved the horses, become in his own right, a track announcer. As I finished my very first race call that early December evening, all I could think was: “Thank you, Dad.”
As a postscript my tenure as a publicist, race announcer, and tip-sheet handicapper would come to an end in August, 1984 when the Rooney family (Yonkers Raceway, Pittsburgh Steelers) took control of the track. Understandably, they brought in their own personnel. Yet, it’s a time I shall never forget.
Turn the clock back some thirty years to the early 1950s. I was living with my parents and younger brother in third-floor apartment building in the Dorchester-Mattapan section of Boston. At the time, I was about eleven-years old. My father, who I would later learn, loved to play the horses, had bought me a horse-racing board-game. Well, the game had this board that depicted a horse racing oval. There were slots for six horses (the spaces on the board depicted movement around the track; they became wider as one moved out from the infield).
Well, my job was to put five dies (dice) into a cup. Shake the cup, release the dice and then move the different-colored metal horses around the board. If say, the one die came up twice, then I moved the #1 horse forward two spaces.
What I loved about all this was the excitement of moving the metal horses around the track, but even more, my father’s race calls. I must say, in hindsight, he really got into it. My father had names for every horse. I particularly remember “Citation” (1948 Triple Crown winner). But there was also horses named: “Coaltown”. “Middleground”. “Seabiscuit.”
I can still hear my father, now: “That’s Citation moving quickly in contention on the outside…” Or, “Middleground is gaining ground along the rail.” I loved every second of it.
Well, I would outgrow that horse-racing board game, but I never forgot the enjoyment and, the father-son bonding, that the activity brought.
Years would go by. I would begin my teaching career. I would get married. And, I would move out to a Boston suburban area called MetroWest. I would supplement my teaching salary by working part-time for a local newspaper.
One night, I’ll never forget, I was doing re-writes when the sports editor asked the bunch of us if anyone knew anything about harness racing (of course I did. I had bet on both thoroughbred and harness races since I was a teenager). I volunteered to cover a harness racing awards dinner at Foxboro Raceway.
Well, that evening I would meet the then the publicity director at Foxboro Raceway, the late Joe Hartmann. Joe and I hit it off. Joe told me that he was leaving soon to become the publicist at PA’s Pocono Downs. He then asked, “Do you know anyone who might be interested in the publicist’s job here at Foxboro Raceway?” He added, “That person will have to call the first race each weekday night”.
Soon after Joe finished, I told him that I had good writing skills, knew a good deal about harness racing and that I could handicap (the track put out a tip sheet each night) the tip sheet. I did say that I had never called a harness race, although I had called hundreds of high school football, basketball and baseball games.
It was then that Joe said, “We have qualifiers coming up this Tuesday morning. If you can get away, why don’t you come down (he said he would alert the staff) and we’ll get you up in the announcer’s booth. There’s a pair of binoculars in the cabinet.” I recall Joe saying, “Bring your tape recorder.”
Well, qualifying Tuesday arrived. I found my way up to the announcer’s both. Talk about a panoramic view. I found the binoculars. I was given a run-down sheet of the horses seeking to qualify (no saddle-cloth colors). I remember the first-race pacers leaving the paddock. Calling into the tape recorder would, in hindsight, turn out to be the easiest part. About a minute later, six pacers were lined up across the track behind the starter’s car. On Foxboro’s then half-mile track, they were released in front of me.
What transpired next was well one of the most frustrations and, I might add, disappointing times in my harness racing life. I just couldn’t pull the trigger. I was hemming and hawing. I called a name here, a position there. Frankly, I was terrible.
Before I left, I remember leaving the tape of my race call for Joe Hartmann. In hindsight, I probably shouldn’t have even bothered.
A few days later I would meet with Joe. Joe came right out and candidly called it as it was (or what it wasn’t): “Walt,” he said, “I can’t bring this to management.” I remember him saying that I had a lot of the qualities the track was looking for in a publicist, but we need someone who can call that first race.
Just as I was leaving I said, “Joe, would you give me one more chance.” I remember adding, “I know I can improve off that.” He said, “O.K., Walt, but we’ve got to do this quickly because management wants someone in place very soon. I’m leaving for Pocono, soon,” he added.
To make a long story, short. I went back again to call qualifiers. In the interim, I practiced like crazy. I even went to Foxboro one evening and tape-recorded the regular announcer, a man named Wally Cryan, a Providence TV News personality
Well, this time around up in the announcer’s booth I was better. To say much better, that might have been a reach.
In a tale out of school, I didn’t immediately leave the tape of my race call for Joe Hartmann. I edited it. You see I had access to a Marlborough, MA radio station. I transferred my cassette tape on to a reel-to-reel. I voiced in edits where there were gaps. In the end, my race-call tape was “tight”. At least as tight as I could make it.
The next day I brought to Joe Hartmann at the Raceway my tape. Joe listened. I remember him saying to me when it was over, “Walt, this is much better. A vast improvement over your first effort. I’m going to recommend you to management.” A few days later I was offered the job. I accepted. I would call my first “live” race a few days later.
As I think back over thirty years, I’ll never forget that evening. It was a dream come true. It was like reliving that horse-race game that my Dad and I would play on that old wooden kitchen table in our Boston apartment building. I was again shaking the dice and moving the horses the appropriate number of spaces, and my Dad calling the races. I can still hear him now, “And at the wire it’s the Triple Crown winner, Citation, by two lengths.”
Sadly, my father never got to hear me call a race. He had died about five years ealier in the summer of 1979. But I knew he was there with me in spirit. I knew he would have been bursting with pride to see and hear his son, the young boy who rolled the dice and moved the horses, become in his own right, a track announcer. As I finished my very first race call that early December evening, all I could think was: “Thank you, Dad.”
As a postscript my tenure as a publicist, race announcer, and tip-sheet handicapper would come to an end in August, 1984 when the Rooney family (Yonkers Raceway, Pittsburgh Steelers) took control of the track. Understandably, they brought in their own personnel. Yet, it’s a time I shall never forget.