The Canadian Sportsman
November 12, 2009
It was already past the witching hour when the secret ladder was found hidden behind an ordinary closet door. This could not wait until morning.
Muscling open the hatch, Dave Landry and I clambered out onto the roof and into a ghostly night.
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A full moon hung above one of the two chimneys standing sentry on opposite ends of the long, wooden catwalk; the glow diminished by the haze of a warm summer evening.
We were not alone.
E.P. Taylor’s spirit was palpable on the roof of his former Maryland mansion as we plunked ourselves down on the planks, backs against the wobbly white railing.
A handful of fireflies popped in and out like tiny fireworks accompanied by a soft chorus of crickets. Nearby, horses shrouded by darkness, announced their presence with occasional snorts and nickers.
We sat in silence for nearly two hours and filled our ears, immersing ourselves in the magic of a farm at night. And not just any farm. The old Windfields Farm, now known as Winbak.
Thoroughbreds have given way to standardbreds, but this farm has been home to numerous champions — from the incomparable Northern Dancer to harness stars such as Muscle Hill, Rainbow Blue and Bettors Delight.
But it is E.P. Taylor’s former mansion which exudes the most history, particularly for a pair of Canadian boys who appreciate the profound impact he had on horse racing in our country. Built in the 1960s by the same people who constructed Taylor’s Lyford Cay estate in the Bahamas, the current owners have preserved the home much in the manner in which one imagines it was when Taylor haunted the roof with coffee and binoculars, watching his horses train on a nearby turf track.
That track is gone now, though the dirt track remains. In those days, this farm was Taylor’s private training facility and, it is said, his favourite vista came from this rooftop perch.
It is also said, the man who built the modern Woodbine Racetrack is rolling over in his grave now that harness racing has invaded his beloved plant. What then, would he make of his Maryland farm overrun with standardbreds? Or, for that matter, the main entrance road new owner Joe Thomson cheekily named Standardbred Way.
Noreen Taylor, believes her late father-in-law would have approved. “He was, above all, a realist,” she said. “This was wonderful horse country. It’s marvelous that it continues to be wonderful horse country, whatever the breed is there.”
Landry has mixed emotions about all this. He seems slightly maudlin about the passage of time as it pertains to this farm, yet is delighted Winbak has not discarded its thoroughbred roots; ones in which he happily entangles himself now. Landry spent his childhood tagging along with his father and brother — jockey Rob Landry — to Woodbine. There is no more iconic racing figure in Dave’s life than E.P. Taylor.
When the pull of sleep yanks us, grudgingly, from the roof at last, Landry stuffs his hands in his pockets, bows his head slightly and sheepishly asks if he can sleep in Taylor’s old master bedroom, the one festooned with floral patterns. The draw isn’t the pretty sheets. He wants to wrap himself in the warmth of history’s blanket for one night.
It is a slightly strange request, but how could you deny the man that? E.P. Taylor slept there.
“Whatever,” I said with a shrug. “Knock yourself out.”
It is only the next morning, over coffee with Winbak staff, that Landry learns Taylor rarely, if ever, used the master bedroom. Instead, he preferred to bunk in the more masculine guest bedroom next door; the one with the closet containing the secret ladder.
The room where I had the accidental pleasure of sleeping.
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October 02, 2009
For years now, Jimmy and Christina Takter have been naming horses after members of the harness racing media — Ken Warkentin being the most famous, of course. But there have been others, including Bob Heyden, Dean Hoffman, Nicole Kraft, Kathy Parker, Gordon Waterstone.
So, where’s the love for your Canadian friends, Jimmy? As a man of the world, you’d think he’d throw a little international goodwill our way. After all, I’ve even made the trip to his spectacular farm in his New Jersey, seen his Statue of Liberty and sat in his American room.
Not that Jimmy has to name a horse after me, but someone from The Sportsman would be nice. I vote for Schellenberger, the maiden name of my colleague Lauren Lee. Now that would be a great name. Here comes Schellenberger! Perhaps one for our advertising director, Kristy Dustin. And Dustin dusts them off again!
About the closest I’ve come to having an equine namesake in thanks for all the love I’ve showered on the industry is Bob McIntosh’s threat to name a horse DontwhipmeBriggs (see previous entry).
Nice.
But of course, Dave Landry gets the pseudo star treatment. Back in 2007, Landry began telling me Doug McIntosh, Bob’s brother, was going to name a horse after him.
Sure, sure, I thought, with equal parts skepticism and envy.
Occasionally, I would check and, upon finding no horse with that name, I figured this was just something Doug mentioned in passing as something he might do... Until I opened last year’s Lexington Selected Yearling Sale catalogue and discovered hip number 151, an Artsplace colt out of Doug’s mare Angel in Disguise. The name? Yup, you guessed it — Landry.
This delighted the human Landry to no end and he quickly began devising schemes to cobble together both coins and coconspirators to purchase his equine namesake. Thankfully, they remained just that, schemes — though I’m convinced this colt will end up winning the North America Cup for no other reason than it’s named for Landry.
Unable to be in Lexington the week of the sale, Landry asked me — seriously — to have Blair Burgess scope out the equine Landry and report back.
Blair was a good sport and, after giving a lightning-quick, less-than-lukewarm scan of the pedigree page, promised to take a look at the horse before it sold (for $22,000 to Len Kordy of Kingston, ON).
The next day, I ran into Blair at The Red Mile and asked him what he thought of Landry.
“Small and correct,” Blair said simply, before walking away.
I’m not sure if he meant the horse or the photographer.
September 18, 2009
The fun thing about traveling with Dave Landry is he never misses an opportunity to talk about light, camera equipment or photography in general.
This is all well in good once you learn to let it drift right through you like a ghost without wasting time reflecting on what you’ve heard hundreds of time before, but should Landry run into another photographer — even worse, an amateur photographer — might as well pull up a chair.
This very thing happened in Lexington last year when Landry ran into amateur photog and Hall of Fame trainer Bob McIntosh in the lobby of our hotel.
The conversation went from light to camera bodies, to the virtues and crimes of the major camera makers to how best to take one’s own life (oh wait, that was me).
Before we know it, we’re all in the hotel bar, where the conversation turns from ISOs to editor Dave, particularly his published support for what at that time were proposed changes to the whipping rules in Ontario.
For a second, put aside the recent disqualification of Trevor Ritchie’s filly in the Peaceful Way eliminations. Even a year ago, McIntosh was against any changes to the whipping rule, a point he made eloquently by questioning everything about me except my manhood (wait a second… come to think of it, I think he did that, too).
That comes with the territory when you’re in the business of stating opinions. I can take it — no matter what Bob says about my manhood.
But whoo-eee, isn’t it fun when your good pal Dave Landry quickly joins in on your public flogging. After all, that’s what friends are for, isn’t it?
Landry threw in the occasional jab and, basically, laughed his ass off at my expense for the better part of a two-hour roast that ended with McIntosh literally borrowing a whip from Luc Ouellette and demonstrating its proper use on a bar chair before announcing his intent to name one of his homebreds after me — DontwhipmeBriggs.
I keep checking the USTA’s Pathway system, and, so far, McIntosh hasn’t made good on his threat.
It all adds up to another cherished road warrior memory with the rock star and the monkey he travels with.
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