The Eighty-Dollar Champion - Elizabeth Letts [129]
The exhibition was on the first day of the show. The grandeur of the opening ceremonies, with the U.S. Army Marching Band and the parade of international teams, was a spectator favorite and always drew a big crowd. In the afternoon, special exhibitions were planned: dancing dressage horses, cowboys on roping horses, and the world-famous jumper Snowman.
The exhibition was also time to shine for helpers Chef and Harriet. Harry entered the ring aboard Snowman. They started the show by flying over a series of high fences, leaving the crowd gasping in shocked delight as Harry tossed the reins down while arching over the fences.
In the wings, Harriet and Chef awaited their turn. At home, they had been practicing a show-stopping trick. Chef held on to the lead rope of the second horse they had brought for the occasion, Lady Gray. A flea-bitten gray like Snowman, she was a dependable field hunter and lesson horse; they looked so much alike that some people had trouble telling them apart, and the two horses were friends.
At the signal from their dad, Chef and Harriet walked into the big arena leading the gray mare behind them. The jump crew had set up a big square oxer, as high as Lady Gray’s withers. Harry circled Snowman around, flying over the fence and leaving the audience wondering what was going to happen next. Cued by his father, Chef led Lady Gray into the space between the two halves of the spread fence and held tight.
At an exhibition, Snowman jumps over Lady Gray. Harry is in the saddle and Chef is holding Lady Gray. (illustration credits 22.2)
The children heard the spectators gasp as Harry and Snowman bore down on the fence, this time with the other horse standing smack in the way. To clear the hurdle, Snowy would have to clear the horse as well. Bravely, Chef, nine years old, stood holding Lady Gray’s lead rope, watching Snowy bear down on them. One false move would result in a tragic tangle of legs and horseflesh.
There were no false moves. Just as they had practiced, the big horse, his trademark small ears pricked forward, soared over fence and horse with room to spare. It was breathtaking.
The crowd erupted in furious applause. Chef grinned shyly and fished a carrot out of his pants pocket to feed to Lady Gray. None of them, neither horse, nor child, nor Harry, had ever had even a moment’s doubt.
A sport that had so recently seemed a stodgy and repetitive pastime—like parents watching their own children’s ballet recitals—had become, thanks in good part to Harry and Snowman’s charm, the kind of spectacle that brought crowds out in droves.
The Armory looked splendid with the tricolored bunting, presidential box, and Army Marching Band. The feel of the show was more cosmopolitan, less stuffy high-society than the Garden. It was a newcomer on the show circuit, but it was fast becoming the second most important venue after the Garden itself. Now that the fun and games of the exhibitions were over, the competition would begin. Even before the show had started, a lot of people had assumed that there would be a rivalry between Snowman and Windsor Castle. On the show’s opening night, the Washington Post announced, “HORSE SHOW BRINGS BOTH $50,000 AND $80 ENTRANTS.” The plow horse and the expensive jumper would face off in the first class.
The opening event of the evening was the fault-and-out, in which a horse would be eliminated by a single fault. Right away, it became clear that out of a huge field of open jumpers, it was going to come down to a contest between the big two: Windsor Castle and Snowman.
The pair of horses were a study in contrasts. Snowman, the gentle giant, would safely carry a small child or a beginner on his broad back. Brilliant but erratic, Windsor Castle had a firecracker temperament. When the horse was on his game, he could