University of Virginia Library

Amazing Part

The amazing part about it all
was not so much how bettors chose
their horses as the way in which
Derby Fever affected them. The
elevator operator who I mentioned
earlier (usually a quiet, unassuming
guy) would serenade his passengers
with "Fugue For Tinhorns" from
"Guys and Dolls"; "I got the
morning line/Jim French is running
fine." I was beginning to think that
the Derby was the high point of his
life. When I went out at 8 o'clock
Saturday morning to place the bets,
he greeted me in a W.C. Fields'
voice: "Ah, yes, they'll be playing
'My Old Kentucky Home' before
long." I wasn't still asleep, though I
wished I were.

New Yorkers suddenly became
friendly. There was time-time to
patiently wait in line, time to speak
to strangers. I'd go into a store and
the clerk would ask me what horse
I had. "Eastern Fleet," I'd reply, to
which another customer would add,
"He's a good horse."

It was a nice atmosphere, one of
comradeship, which probably last
appeared when the Mets won the
pennant, and which made some
wonder if all of the nation's
decaying railroad stations shouldn't
be turned into betting parlors. But
important races aren't run every
day, and I imagine by now New
York is back to its impersonal self,
except perhaps at the payoff
windows.

So, Canonero II won. And my
friend won. And Howard Samuels
really won.

As for the elevator operator,
well, I beat it back to C'ville before
he returned to his job. I hate to see
a grown man cry.