True Names Dept -- finally...

When Walt woke me at the crack of dawn yesterday and told me he was off to London (see "Walt's away", earlier today), I asked him if he's left any copy which I could post -- after editing of course -- while he was away. "No," he said, "You'll think of something."

"What if I can't?", I asked.

" Well," he replied, "if all else fails, use Fred C. Dobbs' story about the horse with the funny name!" Then he departed in a cloud of dust and small stones.

Walt was referring to one of the many fine stories about horses and horse racing, in The Golden Age of B.S. (Gage, 1976), by one of the writers after whom Walt has modelled himself, Fred C. Dobbs. Fred was the alter ego of the late Michael Magee, from Beamsville ON (you can look it up) a part-time radio and TV personality and full-time fan of the sport of kings. 

In this anecdote, Fred talks about a gentleman by the name of Foster Buck Dryden -- really! -- who was the track annoouncer at a couple of the old racetracks in the west end of Toronto. Here's the story....

Poor old Buck Dryden was really tested whenever a mare name of York Hunt showed up on the entries. I guess a little bit of history's in order here. Toronto's original name at one time used to be York, named after one of the king's sons. 

Citizens later got together, held a vote, changed the name from York to Toronto. But there was a hunt club started at that time, named after the king's son. Come to think of it, it might have been a name chosen by a real wiseacre, cause York Hunt is one hell of a name to say.

Buck was an awful prim and proper sonofagun, and he'd never call that mare by her given name. I mind one time out at the old Long Branch, and York Hunt made a tremendous move outta the pack, and really started to threaten coming to the quarter pole. 

Buck was calling a couple horses in front of the mare, and then he says, "...you-know-her-name's running third on the outside." Then, when the field turned for home, he names the leader and the horse in the second spot, and "...you-know-who flying on the outside."

Then, by the time they're hitting the sixteenth pole, old Buck's now saying, "...and you-know-her-name now going to the front!" Every guy in the lunch-pail gang would just do his damndest, if he had his money down on her, to be shouting, "Come on, York Hunt! Come on, York Hunt!"

Thus endeth the story. I don't suppose a name like "York Hunt" would get by the Jockey Club today, in the Age of Woke.

Fred C. Dobbs's only published works are The Golden Age of B.S.  and The Platinum Age of B.S. (Van Nostrand Reinhold, 1981). Both long out of print. If you're a Canadian and enjoy seeing the high and mighty get the respect they really deserve, try to find one or both books. You'll find samples in: "Best honorary football kickoff address ever", WWW 23/4/14 and "A fond look back at Fred C. Dobbs, scourge of the lamestream media" WWW 30/12/20.