From
A long, proud 
by Mike Newall
A muddy white pickup truck slowly pulls into an empty gravel
parking lot next to the
A procession of cars follows. Men, young and old, pile out. Some wear sports
jerseys and ballcaps, others barn boots and
dirt-stained jeans. A few men arrive galloping out of the brush, cool atop
their mounts, sporting cowboy hats and silver-and-gold Western-style belt
buckles.
A car radio blasts old-school soul.
Wives and girlfriends gather at picnic tables, holding babies, chatting and
laughing.
The men hang in the parking lot, shaking hands, giving bear hugs and talking
trash, the first language of the
"When you gonna bring your horse up here?"
"Man, just tell me when you want to do it."
"You crazy you think your horse a racehorse."
A trailer pulls up. In the back, a big chestnut-bronze
thoroughbred.
A group of men ambles through the grass with another thoroughbred, this
"Let's get it on," someone shouts.
Black inner-city cowboys have been racing their horses at the
"Some things just always been around," says one
For years black cowboys bought horses at livestock auctions in New Holland,
Pa., and cared for them at stables in North and
For generations, kids more interested in horses than in hanging on street
corners have spent their summers in city stables "shoveling crap," as
they put it, and dreaming of one day riding at the
Over the decades, legends were made. And some are still in the making.
There were the jockeys. Boo, Parrot,
Today there's Keith. Keith is the man. Beating Keith is the only way
you can get a name for yourself on the
The old-timers say there were too many horses to remember. There was Annie,
who streaked to 21-0 on the
Now the horse is O.J. "Fast as lightning," they say. Trouble comes
getting him to stay calm at the gate. He jumps and bucks all over the place,
because when he's ready to run, he's ready. If you get a rider who can
handle 'em, he'll run the quarter-mile in 19 seconds flat.
There are 10 tales for every race at the
Some of the old-timers estimate that just 20, 30 years ago, there must have
been 400 or 500 cowboys in the city. Now, they say, maybe a hundred remain.
Many of the stables were built on small plots of inner-city land or in former
factory and warehouse spaces.
But most of these stables have closed over the past couple decades due to
redevelopment or stable mismanagement. This past February, as part of its
Neighborhood Transformation Initiative, the city evicted dozens of cowboys and
more than a hundred of their horses from three stables at Master from 31st to
The Philadelphia Redevelopment Authority claims the cowboys were illegally
using the former warehouse as a stable, a use it wasn't zoned for.
Many of the
"The animals were kept in fine condition," says Ellis Ferrell, who
ran horseback riding programs for kids in
With nowhere to keep his horses in the city, Ferrell, 65, was forced to end
the programs he'd run for 23 years.
"Learning to ride kept the kids out of the drugs and taught them
responsibility and respect," he says. "But all that's gone now."
The cleared space where the stables once stood is being sold to a private
developer who plans to develop a mix of market-rate and low-income houses on
the site.
The cowboys say the
"It was our headquarters," says one.
A few cowboys have relocated their horses to better digs in
There are fewer cowboys every year, which means fewer races. Races were held
at the
Boo stands alongside the
Before warming up, leg wraps are removed and muscles rubbed down. Some of
the horses get "vitamins,"
"We can race today," says Cheech.
"I don't give a damn."
Cheech points his finger in the air and bellydances in a skintight purple shirt. Boo laughs. "You
wanna race me, Boo? Bring that horse of yours out
here."
Boo offers a dismissive nod and a wave, then turns
his back on Cheech, who's still yelling.
"O.J.," he says, drawing out the infamous initials that belong to
his copper-colored Oklahoma-bred 10-year-old gelding.
Sixteen hands high with legs like tree trunks, O.J. is
the current folk hero of the
"His name is O.J.--the Juice," says Boo. "Ain't no one faster."
In the seven years Boo has owned O.J., he's raced the animal just seven
times.
"I pick my spots," he says.
Cheech's horse was the most recent victim.
It was Cheech who'd been pestering Boo to race. Cheech taunted Boo last summer. "You scared, Boo. You
scared."
But Boo wouldn't bite. Boo played it cool, took his time, let Cheech get confident. A confident man, Boo knows, will bet
big. Then one day Boo came to the
"Let's get it on," said Boo.
A purse was agreed on, word spread, and the crowd swelled.
"When the Juice runs, that's the race of the century," says Boo.
O.J. was jumpy at the starting line. Cheech's horse
bolted first and gained a big lead while O.J. stayed frozen for what seemed
like forever. A hush came over the crowd.
Then the Juice jumped.
"When he landed, the Juice was right beside that boy's horse,"
says Boo, laughing. "And I turned around and looked at him and said, 'This
race is over.'"
Back in his day Boo was a well-known and respected jockey on the
Boo was born in
"Me and my cousins, we used to go up to 40th and Parkside
after school," Boo says in a rapid-fire Southern drawl. "They had
stables there and would rent the horses out. The older guys would come off work
to take care of their horses, and they'd start in with each other. Just like
the talk on the
When Boo was 17, a racehorse owner named Mr. Hilton spotted him.
"Where you learn to ride like that, boy?" Mr. Hilton asked.
"Street racing," Boo answered.
Mr. Hilton introduced Boo to the pro racing circuit. Boo worked as a groom
and later as an exercise rider at Suffolk Downs in
"I was galloping a horse one morning," Boo says. "But the guy
didn't tell me the horse wore blinkers. When the sun came out, the horse saw
the shadow and ran right over to the railing. Me and him
flipped over. I said, 'Oh man, here we go.'"
Boo fractured his neck, and broke an arm and collarbone.
He recovered, but then came another accident, this one along the
"I broke my whole left side," says Boo.
The horse died a week later.
Boo now spends all his time training horses instead of racing them. Till
last February he stabled his mounts at
After
"Well, I know why they did it," says Boo of being chased off
Boo's mornings are now spent at the stables in Fairmount Park, catering to
O.J. and other horses, cleaning stalls, changing bedding, dishing out feed and
riding or walking the horses. His stalls are clean, and his horses are strong
and healthy.
"I love my horses," he says. "Treat them like they're my
world."
O.J. gets the middle stall.
"I treat him like a hot rod," says Boo. "Make sure
everything's right on him and buy the best stuff. If he needs a girlfriend, I
get him a girlfriend."
Boo says O.J. will race again soon.
"There are just too many fools to be tooken,"
he says of the hot shots who show up at the
Hot shots who make their money on the street and have plenty of it to burn,
who go to the auctions in New Holland, overpay for horses, hire trainers and
jockeys and then come to the Speedway looking to race.
"They think they're smart and know everything," says Boo. "We
let 'em think they have a fast horse. And we just take 'em."
Boo's son Kyle stands in the shadows of the trees where a crowd of about 50
waits restlessly for the trainers to finish their prep so the race can start.
Kyle, 16, is small and lean and has wanted to be a jockey since Boo
introduced him to horses as a child. He spends many of his summer days in the
stables with Boo.
Having shoveled his share of manure, Kyle's earned himself a place on the
Boo says he worked his old connections to land his boy a job as a groom at
the track when he graduates from high school. "He's going to
For now, though, Kyle plans on racing Champ--a big, fast copper-colored
horse--at the
Though he's a relative newcomer to the
"You'd always see new faces and all that," he says. "But now
you see the same little bunch of people coming out."
Today's race is a grudge match between two horse owners from the
"It's the race everyone wants to see," says Jordan, Chief's owner.
Burly, with a hustler's smile and tinted sunglasses,
"We won't put all the stipulations to rest today," says
Since the horses in this race are stablemates,
their owners have wagered just a dollar on the race. Yet there will, of course,
be side bets.
"Keith is riding my horse," he says. "And he's the
best."
Standing at one end of the Speedway, Keith buttons a black down vest over
his small jockey's frame, completing his riding uniform of baggy black pants,
white sneakers and a white T-shirt.
At 44, with innumerable wins under his belt, Keith is a legend on the
Keith was just 3 years old the first time his sister's boyfriend came around
his
He worked as an exercise rider at
He gets all the top rides and big-money races at the
"Some of them luck out and beat Keith once in a while," says Boo.
"But most of 'em don't."
Keith runs the
"I stay in it for the love of the horses," he says.
The
"Ain't gonna be none of us anymore," he says. "All the black
people that own horses, the city is pushing 'em out of the city."
Keith tucks his riding crop under his arm and hops up on Chief. He pulls
back the reins, gives his horse a little heel and heads down the
Keith is cool and calm upon a horse.
"He knows how to ride with the horse," says Boo. "Them kids don't know what to do against him. They'll get all
excited and start whipping the horse, all caught up in trying to beat him. And
Keith, he'll just set his horse, and when they get real close to the finish
line, he'll just zoom by them laughing."
"See what they did to [Smarty Jones jockey] Stewart Elliott at the
Earlier this year, some cowboys from
One of
They lit into the Philly cowboys for not being able to scrape together
enough purse money.
"The trees got more green than y'all bitches
do," one of them taunted.
The opposing jockey tore into Keith.
"This is my home," he spat at Keith. "I own this strip."
Keith stayed cool, and with a hundred yards remaining, he blew into the
lead.
Crossing the finish line to a frenzied crowd, Keith stood up on his horse. He
pointed his whip at the lagging
"Yo, who likes Chief?" yells Power's
heavyset goateed owner, standing at the finish line, taking some last-minute
bets. "Come on, y'all."
"They're both fast horses," Boo says. "But I like Keith's
horse."
The jockeys trot their horses down the
Keith is riding against Timmy, a young jockey he beat badly two weekends
ago.
The horses reach the fence.
The crowd spills onto the
The horses seem reluctant to get into starting position.
"They both down there fighting," yells Power's owner. "Two
studs down there. One got enough, the other one don't."
The horses settle down.
All is quiet for a moment.
The horses bump out of the start.
The jockeys quickly regain control.
"Here they come!" yells Cheech.
"Here they come!"
The crowd recedes back onto the sidelines, cheering and jumping.
The owners cheer on their horses.
"Come on, Power."
"Take 'em Chief. Take 'em."
Timmy is on the outside and has a slight lead.
The riders near the bushes. About 200 yards to go.
Keith starts to make his move.
Timmy invades Keith's lane, cutting him off and forcing him toward the
bushes.
Keith reins in his horse.
Timmy takes off and finishes two lengths ahead, pumping his fist as he
crosses the finish line.
Keith follows behind shaking his head in disgust and furiously screaming
epithets that get lost in the noise of the crowd.
Power's owner is jumping up and down.
"You know what I mean, baby!" he yells. "You know what I
mean, baby!"
Someone taped the race with a camcorder. The replay shows what everybody
knows: Timmy cut Keith off.
Keith stands off by the brush, sweating and pacing.
The crowd starts to thin out, laughing and relaying the race to each other
as they leave.
"That's how we do it here," he says, smiling. "This ain't
Keith stands in the parking lot by the
Most of his buddies are already back at
He's cooled down since the end of the race.
"Timmy was just trying to beat me at all costs," he says, smiling
confidently. "A lot of these younger guys, that's their goal in life--to
beat me."
Boo walks over with
"It was a race," says
"A dirty race," adds Boo, laughing. "But, you know, we
get 'em next time. That's how you got to look at it."
They all shake hands.
"This is the only thing we like to do," says Keith about the