With so many posts on Facebook lamenting the end of an era after the closing of Golden Gate Fields, I was feeling nostalgic. Next thing I know, I’m on the stepladder pulling a trunk full of old Win pictures from storage. You may ask, what do I call old? Would fifty years plus surprise you? There are pictures from all over the place. California, both North and South, the California Fairs, West Virginia, Kentucky, Virginia, and New York. From time to time, I’ll be sharing some of these here, especially the ones that bring back strong memories that include a remarkable story that I can share with you.
However, today’s entry will be about the first picture I came across at the top of the stack; while not the oldest, it showcases one of the most entertaining people I have ever met—Dick Doyle.
Tall, by anyone’s standards, and made taller by his ever-present cowboy hat—truthfully, I don’t recall ever seeing him without one—but on occasion, he would tip it back, and you would get a brief glimpse of the truly remarkable farmer’s tan he sported.
Dick was burly, but then you had to be if you were going to wrestle a steer or two, and that was something he’d done when he was younger. I want to say he was also a team roper, but it’s been so long that I can’t be sure. His son, Casey Doyle, would be able to answer that question, but like so many of those from my past, we’ve lost touch.
Still, one thing is for sure, Dick Doyle was the real deal. Cowboy turned horse trainer—a proper hand, as we used to say. But handling livestock came as natural to him as taking his next breath.
Gregarious by nature, Dick was a font of incredible stories. He shared one with me only a short time before he passed to use it as a basis for a novel. It was a true story about his father, a young man during the Dust Bowl era, and a cracking good story that I will write someday. In truth, it practically writes itself. The story involves three teenage boys, horse rustling, Texas Rangers, Mexican Federales, and a little homeless dog. I can’t begin to describe it here without writing the entire story.
Dick didn’t just tell you stories; he got you involved in making some of your own. One such adventure ended up with us hightailing it from the sight of—what was called in those days—a Mexican Tanforan. We’re talking match racing situated in an open field with a full-scale fiesta on the side. I wrote about that particular adventure, which I included in my short story book, For Want of a Horse. In truth, I could fill a book with those outrageous adventures Dick Doyle sparked.
That brings me to today’s win picture. It’s from August 15, 1978, and the race occurred at the Stockton Fair. Vain Muffin wasn’t very big, but she could run. I also found a second photo of the same race that shows the last jump before the wire.
You’ll note that the jockey, Jim Riley, has a significant hold on his mount, his stick uncocked. He’s watching the horse that ran second to ensure he’s got it outrun. Dick didn’t like his horses winning by a large margin. Why is that? He liked to win, that’s why. And so, he ran them where they would do just that—win. If they won by a large margin in a challenging field of claimers, he’d have to worry about them getting claimed out of their next race, even on a price rise.
I hope you enjoyed my reminiscing about just one of the many remarkable people I have had the good fortune to have met.
What’s in store for next week? Not sure yet. I’m still digging through a lot of pictures. Check back. Also, if you follow me on Facebook, I will always post when I have a new entry for Stories from the Backside. Please feel free to contact me if you have any questions or just want to reminisce. I will never sell or share your information.
Casey and Trina recently went on a drive about the country leaving grown up Justin at home to care for the place. Makes me smile remembering jumping over the gate behind their house coming back from the barn area hearing days old Justin screaming. I paused thinking they were brave to have a kid when Casey came out with an extremely red face carrying a now silent Justin. Casey said they could not get him dressed! Calling your barn neighbor Jeanette on her same phone number will put you back in contact with Casey and Trina.