The Eighty-Dollar Champion - Elizabeth Letts [76]
Marie believed that horse show publicity would help the sport, pulling it from its corner of obscurity and making it a mainstream spectator sport—giving the extraordinary equine athletes their due. Unlike most horse show people, Marie knew the rules of the newspaper game. She took special care writing her press releases, sometimes crafting an article in the style of a well-known sports columnist, aware that if the reporter was short on time, he might use her article verbatim.
Marie had discovered that some words seemed to carry a special magic—and whenever possible, she tried to use those words. “Olympic rider,” “ex-racehorse,” and “thoroughbred” always seemed to get the press’s attention. She also liked to come up with a catchphrase or a slogan. As one of the very few female sports reporters of her day, Marie knew from experience that she needed to try extra hard to carve out a niche for her work.
Daily newspapers hummed with the monumental activity of putting out an interesting, well-written issue every day. As William Zinsser described the scene at the Herald Tribune, “Phones rang incessantly. Every desk had an ancient typewriter in its sunken well, leaving only a wire basket for copy, an ashtray, a cup of coffee, and a spike for impaling any piece of paper that a reporter might later regret throwing away. The spike was where old press releases went to die.” The best way for Marie to bring out spectators was to make sure that her press releases did not end up on that spike—and at Sands Point, the big white plow horse with the handsome young Dutchman aboard caught her eye.
On Saturday, Marie sought Harry out between classes. Where had he gotten the funny horse with the unstoppable jumping style?
Harry was happy to share, in his heavily accented English, the story of the trip to New Holland just two years earlier, of finding the horse on the slaughterhouse truck.
Harry specialized in buying cheap horses, green horses, rejects from here and there, and he did not find anything extraordinary about it; but Marie, who spent her time out among the spectators, saw something special.
For Snowman, four more classes remained before the big jumper stakes. Except for Harry and the kids, there was probably not a single person on the grounds who thought the big plow horse would be able to go the whole way.
Nonetheless, by Saturday afternoon, the gray horse and his brash young rider had attracted a following. Snowman had shown remarkable consistency. Horses earned points for their wins in each class. The entry with the best record over the course of the three-day show would be declared the champion on Sunday, the show’s final day. Right now, going into the last class on Saturday afternoon, Snowman and Andante were neck and neck in overall points. Andante was ahead, but Snowman was performing well enough to be considered a threat. If he won this class, he and Andante would be tied for overall points going into the final jumper stakes on Sunday.
By the time Saturday’s last jumper class started, a large crowd had gathered. Chef, Harriet, and Marty were watching with excitement while Johanna tried to keep them quiet. Dave Kelley went first. As he expertly guided the bay over the jumps; Andante looked every inch the seasoned competitor. The mare had been over courses like this a million times before, and it showed. When they pulled up at the end, the pair had only one fault. To win, Snowman would need a clear round. The gray had been jumping well all weekend, but this was his fourth class of the day—and the fences were formidable. Andante, with her years of experience, had a major advantage. On such a demanding course, after already putting out so much effort, an untested horse like Snowman might fall apart.