Tag Archives: Chicago

Betting on the Ponies in Chicago.

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Click to buy this saddle

Back in the saddle – nothing more appropriate than a story about horses for this post.

I just got a call from my farrier – that’s a guy who shoes horses – he’s coming out to the farm in a a couple of days to trim the horses’ hooves.  Good guy, Ted.  He reminds me of my brother, some – especially when he’s got a hind leg resting on his thigh!

Click for The Complete Horseshoing Guide

So just after the phone call, I check my email and there is a comment from Heidi waiting for me to approve.  Her comment was on my Chicago Blues story, so I read my post again (yeah, I do that, I reread my stuff).  Reading it reminded me of Diane, the redhead, and horses being so close to my mind, I decided to tell this story.

Diane and I were out on the town one evening.  She was showing me her beloved Chicago.  I think that was the day she took me to Wrigley Field for a baseball game, BEFORE they put the lights in.

Or maybe it was the day we attended Taste of Chicago in Grant Park next to Soldier Field.  Allow me this tiny detour, if I may…that morning Diane had asked me about “Mick”; how he was doing.  Mick was his nickname, and none of us knew his real name, because I knew Mick in St. Thomas – and real names were unimportant in St. Thomas.  We called him Mick, because he has more than a passing resemblance to Mick Jagger.  The point is, Mick had departed St. Thomas a month previously, headed home to Ohio.  I told Diane I’d never see Mick again as long as I lived – that was about 9 am.  About 12:30 pm, in Grant Park, with people scurrying to and fro at the popular Taste of Chicago event, I randomly chose to cross a street and wander right, instead of left.  There was no reason, I was meandering.  I heard someone call my name, looked up, and there was Mick! Less than 4 hours after my bold declaration that I’d never see him again…and I never have since that day.  God has a sense of humor.

Back to the races.  Whichever day it was, Diane and I were driving somewhere on the outskirts of downtown, I believe it was Maywood Park.  Diane excitedly asked to stop at the park when she saw the lights on – so we did, of course.  There were only three races left.  The first of those three was about to start as we sat down.  The horses were trotting around the track before approaching the moving starting gate.  My method was simple: a horse that was calm in the turns, kept his head on the business at hand, not tossing a gawking.  Good smooth stride that never missed a beat in the turn.  I saw that horse in the first race, and told Diane that it would win…it did.

Click for a book on harness racing

The second race, I saw the same kind of horse again, and this time I bet on it to win.  Two dollars, because that was the minimum bet.  The program showed the horse at about 12 to 1, and I was so confident in my choice, that I believe I influenced the guy behind me.  Another winner!

Having won, I didn’t want to press my luck so I didn’t bet the third race.  Watching the horses taking their lap, I noticed a horse of the kind I liked, but this horse was a big, powerful grey.  Deep chested, strong stride, magnificent.  I leaned over to Diane and said, “Not only will that horse win, but he will lead wire to wire.”  He did.

I have a sense for horses, I guess.  I don’t really know what I’m looking for – but I know a good horse when I see it.  I can’t tell you what I see, or how I know.  In 2002 I was sitting with friends in Tommy Condon’s on Church Street in Charleston.  We were watching the Derby on TV – as the horses were paraded, we were commenting and making our choices.  As one horse came on the screen, I said, “That’s the one, he’s the winner.”  And

I knew I was right.  I hadn’t seen the name when I made my declaration, I didn’t know much about the entrants, just names in passing.  The horse, War Emblem.  He won.

Click to watch the 2002 Kentucky Derby

It’s probably good I can’t define what I see – not knowing probably keeps me from betting seriously, and that’s a good thing.

Chicago Blues – really

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I need to write something – I’m long past due – and I want to write something fun; so  I’m going to write about a couple of blues joints in Chicago.  My favorite of the two, Wise Fools Pub, apparently is not a blues establishment any more, sadly.   The other is Kingston Mines, about a ten minute walk from Wise Fools, but Kingston Mines is still a blues joint. Between the two is B.L.U.E.S, which I don’t recall from my original visit to Wise Fools and Kingston Mines.  I thought I recalled a House of Blues establishment in the vicinity on a subsequent visit, but I can see no evidence on the world wide web that my memory is remotely accurate in this matter. 

At any rate, I prefer the dark and dingy local establishments to the bright, flashy commercial blues venues.  I have mentioned in a previous post a few of my favorite blues bars, I’ll list them again here, just for fun in no particular order:

Dandelion Pub  on West Burnside, Portland, OR (I think the Dandelion is gone, but that’s where I first heard Lloyd Jones, over 25 years ago)

Big Tuna on the Georgetown, SC waterfront – my experience at Big Tuna

The Hillside Club in Charlotte Amalie, St Thomas, USVI  This was really a local calypso club, but once a week they had a Jersey girl in a stretch leopard print jumpsuit singing blues – she could sing ‘em deep down inside you, and her jumpsuit (well, she in the jumpsuit) was a visual sideshow.

The Peacock Tavern in Corvallis, OR  Not known for blues now, but there was a time…

BB Kings on Beale Street in Memphis, TN  The original establishment, and regardless of what it has now become, it was a great place for music back when.   A great female vocalist fronted for the house band (I think it was the King Beez, but not sure) during the time I was in Memphis.

Preservation Hall in New Orleans, LA  technically New Orleans jazz, but so closely related to blues it doesn’t matter.

A 60 ft ketch (the name of which I can’t remember) in Red Hook Harbor, St Thomas, USVI  There is no blues joint in the world that can compare to that ramshackle boat when Ken and Curt and I were Goin’ To Kansas City on her deck, under Caribbean  stars with soft, tropic breezes wafting and gentle waves slapping time against the hull.

So back to Wise Fools – a dark, dingy labyrinth of smoky rooms filled with growling, driving, soul satisfying blues.  Some pool tables – I have a few impressions – taking two or three steps down to the front door, ducking from one room into the other (low ceilings, I think), the hazy, smoky ambiance, the music, and thinking, “This is perfect!”  And ah, yes - Diane – the lovely, tall, leggy, slender, blue-eyed redhead from Burbank, IL who was my tour guide – and unlike the Oakridge Boys, I still remember her name.  A little note of possible interest: I was the tour guide for this same memorable redhead when she visited St Thomas, and I took her to the Hillside, listed above.

I bought a t-shirt, which became my favorite and therefore in time became tatters.  It was a great shirt and was a fond reminder of wonderful memories.

Kingston Mines was very good also.  But in my memory it wasn’t as bluesworthy as Wise Fools.  Music was good, ambiance was good, patrons and air quality were blueperfect.  But the package was just a step or two down from Wise Fools.  Same redhead guide, same night, also bought a t-shirt, but it wasn’t as good either, and it was lost before it wore out.

After we went bluesing we made the obligatory nightlife visit to Rush Street.  Maybe Rush Street is OK, but I had just been on Halsted, down to Lincoln and had been in two of the greatest blues joints I have ever visited.  Rush street was a bore – the prettiest woman in all of Chicago was on my arm, and we had been together to Wise Fools and Kingston Mines, what could Rush Street possibly offer?