The Eighty-Dollar Champion - Elizabeth Letts [128]
Joseph (Chef), Harriet, and Marty riding Snowman in Long Island Sound. (illustration credits 22.1)
On June 15, Harry headed up to Connecticut for the Fairfield show. Local newspaper headlines plastered his picture all over the sports pages, trumpeting that “the Cinderella horse,” national champion and two-time defending champion at Fairfield, was coming to town. But during a preshow exhibition, over a giant fence six feet, nine inches high, Snowy’s leg buckled on the landing, and he took a nasty spill. He limped away from the fence but was not seriously hurt. Even so, news of the accident headlined in the sports section of the New York Times, and the Chicago Daily Tribune screamed, “JUMPING KING SNOW MAN IS HURT IN FALL.” All eyes were on Snowy. Fortunately, though the crash had looked gruesome, the rumors were worse than the reality. The following day, for the third year running, Snowman captured the title at Fairfield.
The season was going well, but by the end of the summer, Snowman was not in the lead for the PHA prize. Still, having racked up a string of firsts, seconds, and thirds, he remained one of the top contenders. Now, however, there were expectations. A Reader’s Digest article titled “The Farm Horse That Became a Champion” brought the horse’s story to millions more people. That same year, a Dutch version of the story was published. People no longer came out just to see the plow horse who could jump; they came out to see him win.
Whenever Snowman faulted or won the second- or third-place ribbon, Harry saw the look of disappointment clouding the eyes of the children watching from the bleachers, children who knew nothing about the age of the horse or the competition—which seemed to ratchet up in terms of quality of horses and riders with each passing year. Alice Higgins of Sports Illustrated commented, “This has been a season of plenty for horse shows, with most of the major fixtures on the tight fall circuit boasting more horses and spectators than ever before.” To stay at or near the top for three years running was a spectacular feat, but now, to his list of concerns, Harry added concern for Snowman. As always, he tried his best, and week after week he put in solid performances. It was just that now, sometimes, they were not good enough.
The summer whirled by in a familiar pattern of horse shows and hamburgers, of rides and ribbons, of trophies and triumphs, and the occasional defeat. Then as the Knox year started up, the de Leyers settled down to their school-year routine. But this year would be different. In October, Harry and Snowman were going to Washington, to perform in front of the presidential box. Harry knew the competition would be fearsome. Windsor Castle had been cleaning up all over, and at this international show, the nine-year-old gelding’s owner would want his expensive purchase to make a splash. There were newcomers from all over, and some of the old favorites were still going strong. Snowman had triumphed once in Washington, but Harry had not been there to see it. Now Harry’s turn to ride for the president had come.
On October 10, 1960, Harry trailered Snowy to the Armory with a happy sense of anticipation. He and his horse were ready for this show. Johanna had stayed behind with the younger children, but Chef and Harriet came along to help, along with Jim Troutwell, Harry’s and Hollandia’s buddy and groom.
On the way down to Washington, Chef and Harriet squirmed in the front seat of the van with excited anticipation. They were no longer ordinary competitors; they were special guests, invited to perform an exhibition before the show—their first in front of a crowd of this size. Harry and his horse loved nothing more than to perform for children and for the general public—people who might never have seen a real live jumping horse before. He and his horse were now ambassadors for this sport he loved.
While other owners