Teach
01-07-2023, 11:23 AM
“Sure thing!” “Can’t lose!” “Ice cream!” My friend’s father, “Big Louie,” told his son.
I was at the Marshfield Fair (30 miles south of Boston). The Marshfield Fair was an “institution” for many of us who lived in Boston area. Every August, at least among our group, it was almost obligatory that you make at least one “pilgrimage.” Pure and simple, it was “an escape,” just as our visits to Hull’s (Nantasket’s “Paragon Park”) or Revere Beach (near Suffolk Downs) and its amusements had been over the years.
As I think back, there were several summer/fall MA fairs, e.g., Marshfield, Brockton, Topsfield, Northampton, Great Barrington. I believe all of them, in one form or another, had pari-mutuel racing.
Yet there’s one “Fair” visit I’ll never forget. It took place during the late-1950’s. That August day, I joined my friend, “Bullion” (he looked like a fire plug) and his father, “Big Louie” for the ride from our Dorchester (Boston) neighborhood, down route #3 to Marshfield.
I should mention that most people who lived in our neighborhood were, for the most part, “poor.” No, we weren’t on the edge of poverty; yet most of us had very few amenities, i.e., late-model car. One of the exceptions was “Big Louie’s family that included my friend, “The Bullion.”
In any event, that late-morning, when we got to “The Fair,” there were already throngs of people. I remember “Big Louie” - he was generous - buying me a hamburger and a “tonic” (Boston-talk for soda-pop).
That afternoon, the thoroughbred races began. I should mention that Marshfield’s racetrack was a “bull-ring.” It was speed-up on the straightaways and slow down on the turns. It wasn’t always the fastest horse, but the most agile.
I recall we reached the 4th or 5th race. “Big Louie” is going to try to “fix” it. I should mention that “Big Louie” had owned horses (He displayed, in his living room, a winner’s-circle picture of himself and his famiglia gathered around his horse and jockey).
Furthermore, “Big Louie” knew several trainers and jockeys. He would begin “making the rounds.” I remember that after “his visits,” he would tell his son that all was set. I remember “Big Louie” going to the windows to “send it in.”
As I recall, his bet immediately changed the odds. The horse he had bet on, almost instantaneously, had gone from a medium- longshot to “chalk.” (I’m sure that many of Marshfield Fair patrons saw that abrupt change and “hopped on board.”).
The race goes off. “Big Louie’s” “horse” is “sittin’ pretty” just behind the front-runners. The early speed is tiring. As the field reaches the top of the stretch, the two lead-jockeys proceed to open up a hole that a Mack Truck could fit through. But wait, “The Horse,” the one “Big Louie” bet lots of money on, doesn’t have it; he’s “hangin’.” He can’t get by. He ends up finishing out of the money. “Big Louie’s” pissin’ and moanin’.
If there a moral to the story, when it comes to racing, there’s no such thing as a “sure thing.” That’s something that “Big Louie” found out that day at the Marshfield Fair, despite his attempt “to fix” the race. It would be something I would find out later at places like Suffolk Downs, Rockingham Park, and Foxboro Raceway, despite the fact that I had what I thought, at the time, was “good information.”
I was at the Marshfield Fair (30 miles south of Boston). The Marshfield Fair was an “institution” for many of us who lived in Boston area. Every August, at least among our group, it was almost obligatory that you make at least one “pilgrimage.” Pure and simple, it was “an escape,” just as our visits to Hull’s (Nantasket’s “Paragon Park”) or Revere Beach (near Suffolk Downs) and its amusements had been over the years.
As I think back, there were several summer/fall MA fairs, e.g., Marshfield, Brockton, Topsfield, Northampton, Great Barrington. I believe all of them, in one form or another, had pari-mutuel racing.
Yet there’s one “Fair” visit I’ll never forget. It took place during the late-1950’s. That August day, I joined my friend, “Bullion” (he looked like a fire plug) and his father, “Big Louie” for the ride from our Dorchester (Boston) neighborhood, down route #3 to Marshfield.
I should mention that most people who lived in our neighborhood were, for the most part, “poor.” No, we weren’t on the edge of poverty; yet most of us had very few amenities, i.e., late-model car. One of the exceptions was “Big Louie’s family that included my friend, “The Bullion.”
In any event, that late-morning, when we got to “The Fair,” there were already throngs of people. I remember “Big Louie” - he was generous - buying me a hamburger and a “tonic” (Boston-talk for soda-pop).
That afternoon, the thoroughbred races began. I should mention that Marshfield’s racetrack was a “bull-ring.” It was speed-up on the straightaways and slow down on the turns. It wasn’t always the fastest horse, but the most agile.
I recall we reached the 4th or 5th race. “Big Louie” is going to try to “fix” it. I should mention that “Big Louie” had owned horses (He displayed, in his living room, a winner’s-circle picture of himself and his famiglia gathered around his horse and jockey).
Furthermore, “Big Louie” knew several trainers and jockeys. He would begin “making the rounds.” I remember that after “his visits,” he would tell his son that all was set. I remember “Big Louie” going to the windows to “send it in.”
As I recall, his bet immediately changed the odds. The horse he had bet on, almost instantaneously, had gone from a medium- longshot to “chalk.” (I’m sure that many of Marshfield Fair patrons saw that abrupt change and “hopped on board.”).
The race goes off. “Big Louie’s” “horse” is “sittin’ pretty” just behind the front-runners. The early speed is tiring. As the field reaches the top of the stretch, the two lead-jockeys proceed to open up a hole that a Mack Truck could fit through. But wait, “The Horse,” the one “Big Louie” bet lots of money on, doesn’t have it; he’s “hangin’.” He can’t get by. He ends up finishing out of the money. “Big Louie’s” pissin’ and moanin’.
If there a moral to the story, when it comes to racing, there’s no such thing as a “sure thing.” That’s something that “Big Louie” found out that day at the Marshfield Fair, despite his attempt “to fix” the race. It would be something I would find out later at places like Suffolk Downs, Rockingham Park, and Foxboro Raceway, despite the fact that I had what I thought, at the time, was “good information.”