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► : JCog of a Concern tly Siaclng 5lan By Tom OReilly VZ — lMOJN~ ;.fUE y.--.-WEP. - TH U"""""*F * I SAT* mmmmmmtmmmimr "I II lllllf I i II I m»m»»«mm»ii1iimim«m , MONDAY: Up betimes and piqued at the morning papers which carried nary a line about Gallant Man, the new, record-smashing Belmont Stakes winner. Perhaps the editors should re-read "The Merchant of Venice" wherein Bassanio informs Antonio, "In Belmont is a lady richly left . . ." Riding to the course, through the heat wave, read of Arlington Parks new, glass-♦ enclosed, air-conditioned grandstand and clubhouse, which made me feel like a .member of the late FDRs underprivileged "Third of a Nation." Lunched with R. Guest, the old poloist and Virginia legislator, who said R. Lowe, Gallant Mans owner, wanted to buy his good filly, Pocahontas, adding, "I wouldnt sell her for anything." Raymond and his son, "Andy," plan a months hunting in Africa. Last year they hunted in -Alaska, paying half their expenses with a nice bet on Nashua in the famed Swaps match race. Pretty J. Rigione, owner of Ham Bone, gave me Apostle .90 in the second, but I gave it all right back on Night Hour, third ix Louis DOr, in the sixth. Boarded the 4:10 for town as a female racing patron, obviously bushed, flopped into a crooked seat. "That seats broke, lady," called a man. And she answered, "Well, it aint the only thing!" Tsk! Tsk! Safely survived the big shuffle while changing at Jamaica, where you rush from your train across a platform, through another train and across another platform to the train that takes you to town. Anyone accomplishing this, with suitcases, should be awarded a varsity letter. Taxied to my doctors for a check-up and then to the Hotel Shelton, pool where I walked shamelessly past the diving board and entered the water by gingerly backing in at the shallow end. How the mighty have fallen! Alight supper, a stroll home and sweet Morpheus. J AAA I TUESDAY: Up betimes and recalled F. Allens memorable "little show" observation, "Its so hot, Id like to take off my skin and walk around in my bones!" At Penn Station, peeked down the platform stairs and seeing no train, popped into Savarins air-conditioned lunch counter for a cooling iced tea. The air-conditioning wasnt working, the tea was lukewarm and when I returned to the platform, the train was pulling out. How frustrated can you get? Walked piously past the bar and into Doubledays delightfully air-cooled -book shop, where I browsed for a half hour, noting that everything I liked cost at least. .00 and got even with the world by not buying. The open-windowed, wind-swept, train to the course was a galloping buck-board if you miss the air-conditioned 11:50 youre dead. Between bounces read that the wood-burning fireplace in Queen Elizabeths Royal apartments, at Epsom Downs race course, had been replaced by "an electric fire." Looked up from the paper straight into a car-card advertising oil heat. Almost screamed, "wont somebody change the subject?" Little more than M.OOOj smallest crowd of the year, decided to sweat this one out. In the clubhouse lunched at the popular table of Peter, the whistling waiter, with scribes M. Casale, B. Bloom, P. OBrien and tote man K. Powell. Catering man H. Stevens came by flaunting a sunburn picked up golfing at his Yale class reunion. Stevens said a classmate 32, a great year for apples observing the scene, asked with surprise, "How come so many of our bunch married middle-aged women?" To my stint, during which I dropped a deuce on Soin and got • it back on St. Amour n. .40 , thanks to docker P. Adams. Early to town, a Chinese dinner at the air-cooled Shanghai bar, on upper Broadway, then taxied home to more work. All work and no play makes jack! With those short-priced winners I need it. So to bed. AAA WEDNESDAY: Lay late debating whether to write a story about trainer J. Maloney, " whom Ive known for donkeys years, at home or at Belmont Park. Decided the horses would get my mind off the heat. So to the course, noting en route that most Long Island Railroad stations have posters advertising the track New Yorkers call "Mammath." Lunched with scribes P. Lynch, J. Roach and E. Sinclair, giving a big play to the fresh watermelon, new on the menu. Sinclair suggested that Stevens "tap" the melons and insert Cointreau, overnight, an ancient practice of which I had never heard. Steward P. Dunne, proudly playing his new role as "father oflthe bride," since one of his lovely daughters gets married next week, came by to bemoan the quaint, American custom of; giving a wedding reception that "moves a man to the brink of financial ruin." Clocker P. Adams gave me South Florida 7.60 but being too busy to watch the odds board, I only backed him in the double and my second horse ran out. This isnt my week. Did Continued on Page Fifty-Three ■ I OReillys Weekly Log | Continued from Page Six mys stint, then to town, reading en route the excellent description of what goes with a rider during the 20 minutes, from the time he leaves the jocks room to the moment his horse enters the starting gate, by champion E. Arcaro, in Sports Illustrated. Home to discover Miss Lace Curtain burned shocking pink after her first afternoon in an open pool. A light supper, more work and so to bed. A A -A THURSDAY: Early up to a glorious day, the nights wind and rain having mercifully cooled things of f:Over breakfast read the hilarious AP account of Sabrina, Englands TV hostess with the mostest on the chest, crashing the exclusive Royal Enclosure, at Ascot, in a low-necked dress, while, according to the story, "the gateman was groping around the Royal turf for his eyeballs." Climbing the stairs from the railroad tracks, realized that Belmont Parks new "bridge of sighs" is a dead giveaway for fellows who want to be taller than she is. Counted three pairs of elevator shoes going up, lunched watermelon again with the boys in the clubhouse and this time they were recalling how the late, beloved scribe, J. Palmer invented "jellied" stingers and martinis with which he stocked his ice box at Saratoga. To the press box for my stint and when C. Cohens Slider 2.20 won the sixth, a voice called out "Itll be fiesta time in Puerto Rico tonight!" Seems the only handicapper to pick Slider was Senor W. Di Donato, the distinguished attorney who writes for "La Prensa." Talked with J. Hernandez, the horse trader just up from Buenos Aires where, he said, "they only race on Saturdays, Sundays, and Saints Days and every days a Saints day." So to town, a light supper and home with a wonderful book loaned me by scribe P. OBrien. Published in 1949, by Dutton, it is called "The Lion Tamer," after the first of a collection of delightfully short v stories by a young Irish writer, new to me, named Bryan MacMahon, of Kerry, And so to bed. AAA FRIDAY: Up, but only half dressed, because I stayed home and worked all day. Compared to racing, writing is a tiresome business and I wonder that more freelancers dont deliberately break a leg and merit destruction. No wonder Shakespeare wrote only for money — what else? and when S. Lewis won the Nobel prize a friend asked, "Red, what are you going to do. with the money?" Whereupon he replied, "Give it to the most deserving writer I know — me!" Only thing new I discovered all day was that I cant use the telephone without a cigarette in my hand. A. T. and T. and American Tobacco should merge. Later, telephoned New York Hospital and was told scribe E. Shipman is "still in a serious condition but has shown a slight improvement over last week. It looks like a long uphill pull." Read H. Dolsons hilarious New Yorker true story of a youngster visting Gweenrwich Village, entitled "Walk from the Nearest Policeman." A few days ago, Miss Lace Curtain tapped me for three bucks which she claimed she owed for school books. Now her mother is demanding she bring home a receipt. Remember when I not only tapped the old man for "book money" but also "tennis club dues" and there wasnt a racquet in the whole, rough-necked school. Ho hum, so to bed. AAA SATURDAY: Early up to glorious racing weather and, at the course, T. Stix, the radio agent, told how a bum put the bite on him outside the players club in Gram-ercy Park. Tom gave the bum a quarter then turned to finish paying his taxi fare. The hackie asked, "got change for a dollar?" Tom didnt but the vagrant casually pulled some coins from his pocket and said, "mebbe I can make it." Lunched with scribes M. Casale and P. OBrien leminisc- I ing of pleasant evenings spent at the Ocean Ranch, in Miami. Played Vespucci, who tossed Woodhouse out the gate and me out the window. Met news editor F. Devine and his chaming Jancie who arrived at two this morning from a jolly racing junket to England. They saw Lester Piggott win the 2,000 Guineas and Derby on Crepello and then, on Thursday caught him putting over Zarathustra in the Ascot Gold Cup, before heading for home and this afternoons Oaks. So endeth another week of my daze. Tra-la!
