The Eighty-Dollar Champion - Elizabeth Letts [68]
There was, however, a sense that things were changing in Philadelphia in the late 1950s. The Times revealed that some of the grandest estates were being boarded up, ballrooms and banquet rooms shuttered. The upper class suffered from what they called an “inescapable problem with the help”—society people sharing butlers or “driving in their cooks for the evening from the city.” Such were the travails of the spectators who came out wearing blue linen blazers and straw boaters to watch the horses perform at Devon.
But when the Devon Horse Show opened on May 15, 1958, Harry de Leyer was absent from the lineup. Back in St. James, dressed up in a jacket and tie, his hair slicked back and pomaded down, he was helping usher Knox students and their parents down the aisles for commencement, a duty he was not allowed to shirk in order to follow the horse show circuit.
And Snowman, too, was part of the school festivities. Out on the big lawn behind the manor house, the maypole was festooned with fresh flowers and gaily colored ribbon streamers. The girls, dressed in white organza dresses and wearing flowers in their hair, had practiced the intricate ribbon-weaving dance for weeks. As they skipped across the lawn in pairs, holding hands, Snowman, groomed to a spit shine, led the procession with pink ribbons braided into his mane.
Harry did not mind ushering the girls down the aisles; he was fond of his pupils and proud of them at graduation. But it bothered him to see Snowman dressed up in pink ribbons. Rather than lead the horse himself, as the headmistresses had suggested, he let one of the girls take charge of the horse for the day. Harry thought parading Snowman, a gelding, around in pink ribbons, was undignified, though the horse did not seem bothered. Snowy walked placidly in the sunshine, taking in the whole scene—the dancing girls, blue skies, excited parents with popping cameras, and fluttering ribbons—with an air of calm acceptance.
Harry watched the horse from a distance. He looked more like somebody’s pet pony than an open jumper. Harry had strong feelings about dignity. He had worked hard to earn respect for himself and his horses. But the horseman in Harry noted how well this horse handled the noise and confusion of the day; any one of his thoroughbreds would have been prancing in place, spooking and fretting. Surely Snowy’s quiet temperament would come in handy in the show ring, with loudspeakers blaring and stands teeming with spectators.
Harry could not wait to get those pink ribbons out of the horse’s mane and give him a good training session tonight. Beribboned and bowed, Snowman was petted and praised by the Knox families, but the high-stakes world of show jumping, going on that day at Devon, seemed a million miles away.
The only taste of Devon Harry de Leyer would get would come when he read the results a week or so later in the Chronicle of the Horse. The seven-year-old bay mare First Chance, with Adolph Mogarevo from Ox Ridge stables aboard, won the championship; Dave Kelley’s horse Andante came in second; and the veteran Diamant, Eleo Sears’s horse, took third.
Late that afternoon, Harry pulled the pink ribbons from Snowy’s mane, saddled him up, and put him through his paces. The horse was coming along. Harry felt him gaining in suppleness, handling the sharp turns better, improving his balance and coordination.
A big horse show was coming up in June, the first in a series of three Long Island shows known as the Seashore Circuit. Harry talked it over with Johanna. Showing horses was an expensive sport and the small purses would not cover the