The end of August is here.
The sweltering hot days of a record breaking summer are now relieved by cool evenings as the temperature drops down into the fifties or sixties, sure signs of Fall.
Parking lot asphalt still smells oily but the air now also has a hint of smoke. We are almost out of barbecue Sundays. Only two more weekends to go before September swoops down and envelopes us with falling leaves and swirls of Indian Summer.
Labor Day comes later this year, September 6. Most college students started on August 30. For some of us, the more serious endeavors of Autumn are here. If we were back in the country, we would be cutting corn stalks and bringing in the pumpkins.
I have to say it's been interesting. I had quite a season blogging here at the Trentonian, but I think I am going to take a break.
Artfull Codger will still be blogging but not as frequently as before. There will be times, for sure, when Town Hall events prompt a lede and I have to comment, but...
Time is catching up with me so I am looking ahead. I hope to stimulate these aging brain cells and meet new friends. It will be good to see how the rest of the world tackles its issues. A broader point of view comes with the learning process.
Grammy is going back to school.
Yippee!
Stay tuned and wish me luck.
Yep.
Have a nice day.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Cheating? Rules Are For The Other Guy.
It has been drummed into us since we were children to honor our elders, but why? Just because..because seniors and sages are supposed to be wise, law abiding, living examples of the golden rule. That said, I have a hard time with some attitudes here in the capital city of Trenton by folks who should be setting an example.
I am talking about cheating.
Cheating in the capital city of New Jersey?
Puleeze.
Did you know that seventy five percent of Mercer County's non-profits are in the city of Trenton? This makes us kinda top heavy in tax exempt properties, but I was flabbergasted at how many buildings are churches. This must mean we are one of the saintliest cities in the state, perhaps even in the country.
So what would a church be expected to do? Provide guidance. Set moral levels and help those who are marooned or sinking in the morass of the current economy. Churches must be the north star in a moral compass, propping up the complex local society, maintaing a comfort zone for the average resident, while defining the separation of church and state.
Doesn't the Bible say "Render unto Caesar what is Caesar's"?
In a society that has to collect taxes that never seem to meet expenses, why do tax exempt entities exist at all? Well, taxes are waived for those entities whose value in society is helping homeless, addicts, the disadvantaged, those situations not as tangible as police, fire, mayors and clerks.
Has anyone ever considered that city essential services have to be paid for? Not with hat-in-hand monies from Governor Christie, but with licenses, permits, various charges and fees that keep our wheels turning.
Then there is the sense of helping our city. Local requirements and permit regulations for repair to your home or to have a garage sale are based on the expectation that you are helping to carry the freight.
On any given weekend, tables and vendors are scattered throughout the city. Sometimes the stuff is in front of stores, sometimes in front of houses, but they are all accounted for by city ordinances and fee schedules.
The vendors sell everything from mattresses to teddy bears, sneakers to motor bikes. Some are gypsies, many are floaters that change location every week, not in front of their own house, for sure. This is a quality of life issue; sometimes you see someone zipping up his pants and you know that corner of the building is going to stink tomorrow morning.
Trenton has made an effort to regulate the issue by limiting the permits issued for each location and reserving and documenting the date for the inspectors. When you see a rental van with the vendor selling at the tailgate, you wonder if the stuff is stolen. If an inspector were to walk his beat and ticket, he would have to do it a street at a time because it is such a vast problem.
Has anyone ever told these dim-witted knuckleheads that whatever monies are collected for marriage licenses, electrical permits, pedlar licenses, even float rentals and flea market permits, are all part of a complex and very challenging financial picture?
I guess not. Cheating is a way of life.
I wonder sometimes if this a left-over from an attitude that law must be "the Man" and does not apply to whatever "you" want to do. Wake up, you guys. The money that these permit requirements call for help us to run our city.
If parents have the attitude that law-abiding applies only to "the other guy", is it any wonder why we have such problems in the schools and on the streets?
All the parades in the world will not solve this problem if we do not internalize the Golden Rule.
Have a nice day.
I am talking about cheating.
Cheating in the capital city of New Jersey?
Puleeze.
Did you know that seventy five percent of Mercer County's non-profits are in the city of Trenton? This makes us kinda top heavy in tax exempt properties, but I was flabbergasted at how many buildings are churches. This must mean we are one of the saintliest cities in the state, perhaps even in the country.
So what would a church be expected to do? Provide guidance. Set moral levels and help those who are marooned or sinking in the morass of the current economy. Churches must be the north star in a moral compass, propping up the complex local society, maintaing a comfort zone for the average resident, while defining the separation of church and state.
Doesn't the Bible say "Render unto Caesar what is Caesar's"?
In a society that has to collect taxes that never seem to meet expenses, why do tax exempt entities exist at all? Well, taxes are waived for those entities whose value in society is helping homeless, addicts, the disadvantaged, those situations not as tangible as police, fire, mayors and clerks.
Has anyone ever considered that city essential services have to be paid for? Not with hat-in-hand monies from Governor Christie, but with licenses, permits, various charges and fees that keep our wheels turning.
Then there is the sense of helping our city. Local requirements and permit regulations for repair to your home or to have a garage sale are based on the expectation that you are helping to carry the freight.
On any given weekend, tables and vendors are scattered throughout the city. Sometimes the stuff is in front of stores, sometimes in front of houses, but they are all accounted for by city ordinances and fee schedules.
The vendors sell everything from mattresses to teddy bears, sneakers to motor bikes. Some are gypsies, many are floaters that change location every week, not in front of their own house, for sure. This is a quality of life issue; sometimes you see someone zipping up his pants and you know that corner of the building is going to stink tomorrow morning.
Trenton has made an effort to regulate the issue by limiting the permits issued for each location and reserving and documenting the date for the inspectors. When you see a rental van with the vendor selling at the tailgate, you wonder if the stuff is stolen. If an inspector were to walk his beat and ticket, he would have to do it a street at a time because it is such a vast problem.
Has anyone ever told these dim-witted knuckleheads that whatever monies are collected for marriage licenses, electrical permits, pedlar licenses, even float rentals and flea market permits, are all part of a complex and very challenging financial picture?
I guess not. Cheating is a way of life.
I wonder sometimes if this a left-over from an attitude that law must be "the Man" and does not apply to whatever "you" want to do. Wake up, you guys. The money that these permit requirements call for help us to run our city.
If parents have the attitude that law-abiding applies only to "the other guy", is it any wonder why we have such problems in the schools and on the streets?
All the parades in the world will not solve this problem if we do not internalize the Golden Rule.
Have a nice day.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
News for Rutgers Football Fans
I got a call last week that the Rutgers Knight is going to have a new steed this year.
As you know, the symbol of Rutgers University is the "Scarlet Knight". This romantic tradition comes to life every fall during football season, when the stadium is full of alumni and students, dates clapping and cheering, as a real-life, real-time armored knight inspires fans.
You know that glorious white charger flagging his tail, dashing down the field, carrying the triumphant Rutgers Knight? Well. Let me introduce "Zeus".
I never knew him by any other name, although I am sure he had one, probably Sam or Spotty because he was piebald when I first met him a decade ago. He was shipped on a trailer from somewhere in the middle of the country and, as he clambered down the ramp, the thing that first impressed me was his attitude. He was purported to be a cross between a pinto and a percheron. One look at his head carriage and noble face and I thought of Andalusian or Lippizaner... except for the spots.
He lifted his head and there was the regal look of eagles...but he was marked like a mustang.
He snorted like a stallion, loud "woofs" from his nostrils. He had been gelded but that apparently was not going to stop him from showing off for the other horses as he pranced down to the barn. He was not as tall as the 17 hand thoroughbreds already in the field, but his nicely balanced deep body, good straight shapely legs and a crested neck made him look like a heavy set Arabian...with big black patches.
That first week was a challenge. He was so strong all he had to do was walk up to a fence and lean on it until it collapsed. There was real danger that he might teach the other horses to crash fences as well. It was necessary to string paddocks with electric wire to stop him, and soon all the horses knew when the fences were "live". With that settled, the piebald started to pay attention to people.
Eventually Zeus became a part of a family that included a momma, poppa, two little girls, pony, dog, cat and three other horses. He learned the basics, walk-trot-canter (simple, my dear Watson) and then proudly took his policeman rider on long trail rides with the rest of the family.
He learned to jump. He took to fences like they were not even there. Then the worry was that he might jump out of his paddock like the fabled Snowman, but thankfully that never really became a problem. Besides the whole family would ride to hounds and as one huntmaster said, "That whole family, even the pony, rides hell-bent to leather!".
The family toured Valley Forge and rode on horseback through the historic battlefields. Visiting with friends, they rode to hounds in the Carolinas. Zeus and his policeman boss even led family trail rides into the waves at Long Beach Island. Zeus loved his new life.
As the years went by, his coat lightened and spots roaned out so he seemed to be one silver white color. You could see black patches as changes in his coat when he was bathed and his hide was wet, but he appeared white. Lippizaners are born bay or dark colors and become snowy white as they age; perhaps he carried their noble genes after all. That could also explain his attitude and ability.
Zeus went to many horse shows as the mount for both girls. He learned the finer points of dressage and the championship ribbons covered bedroom bulletin boards and the walls of the tack room. An enormous photo of him jumping a fence even hung in one of the meeting rooms of the historic Clarksburg Inn before its recent devasting fire.
One of my favorite Zeus memories is of watching him one glorious day in Maryland. This white Pegasus streaked over the cross country course, long silver tail streaming like a banner over each jump, as he confidently carried my 14 year old granddaughter to many, many ribbons. He was magnificent.
This year one of the girls graduated high school and was off to college. Now there were too many horses in the barn so Zeus became a companion horse, enjoying semi-retirement with a local stable of horse-smart people... because, after all, he was not just a backyard horse.
And then suddenly out of the blue, through the grapevine, a college recruiter for Rutgers heard about Zeus. His resume was impressive so he was interviewed, just like anyone trying to get into college or get a job. The contact was made... and the rest is history.
So if you go to the Scarlet Knight's stadium at Rutgers this fall, breathe in that river air, scented with mum corsages and popcorn. Take a really big breath so you can bellow out a lusty cheer for our latest college freshman....er...freshman-horse.
"Zeus!"
"Zeus!"
"Zeus!" Yeah, Rutgers!
Horses rock.
As you know, the symbol of Rutgers University is the "Scarlet Knight". This romantic tradition comes to life every fall during football season, when the stadium is full of alumni and students, dates clapping and cheering, as a real-life, real-time armored knight inspires fans.
You know that glorious white charger flagging his tail, dashing down the field, carrying the triumphant Rutgers Knight? Well. Let me introduce "Zeus".
I never knew him by any other name, although I am sure he had one, probably Sam or Spotty because he was piebald when I first met him a decade ago. He was shipped on a trailer from somewhere in the middle of the country and, as he clambered down the ramp, the thing that first impressed me was his attitude. He was purported to be a cross between a pinto and a percheron. One look at his head carriage and noble face and I thought of Andalusian or Lippizaner... except for the spots.
He lifted his head and there was the regal look of eagles...but he was marked like a mustang.
He snorted like a stallion, loud "woofs" from his nostrils. He had been gelded but that apparently was not going to stop him from showing off for the other horses as he pranced down to the barn. He was not as tall as the 17 hand thoroughbreds already in the field, but his nicely balanced deep body, good straight shapely legs and a crested neck made him look like a heavy set Arabian...with big black patches.
That first week was a challenge. He was so strong all he had to do was walk up to a fence and lean on it until it collapsed. There was real danger that he might teach the other horses to crash fences as well. It was necessary to string paddocks with electric wire to stop him, and soon all the horses knew when the fences were "live". With that settled, the piebald started to pay attention to people.
Eventually Zeus became a part of a family that included a momma, poppa, two little girls, pony, dog, cat and three other horses. He learned the basics, walk-trot-canter (simple, my dear Watson) and then proudly took his policeman rider on long trail rides with the rest of the family.
He learned to jump. He took to fences like they were not even there. Then the worry was that he might jump out of his paddock like the fabled Snowman, but thankfully that never really became a problem. Besides the whole family would ride to hounds and as one huntmaster said, "That whole family, even the pony, rides hell-bent to leather!".
The family toured Valley Forge and rode on horseback through the historic battlefields. Visiting with friends, they rode to hounds in the Carolinas. Zeus and his policeman boss even led family trail rides into the waves at Long Beach Island. Zeus loved his new life.
As the years went by, his coat lightened and spots roaned out so he seemed to be one silver white color. You could see black patches as changes in his coat when he was bathed and his hide was wet, but he appeared white. Lippizaners are born bay or dark colors and become snowy white as they age; perhaps he carried their noble genes after all. That could also explain his attitude and ability.
Zeus went to many horse shows as the mount for both girls. He learned the finer points of dressage and the championship ribbons covered bedroom bulletin boards and the walls of the tack room. An enormous photo of him jumping a fence even hung in one of the meeting rooms of the historic Clarksburg Inn before its recent devasting fire.
One of my favorite Zeus memories is of watching him one glorious day in Maryland. This white Pegasus streaked over the cross country course, long silver tail streaming like a banner over each jump, as he confidently carried my 14 year old granddaughter to many, many ribbons. He was magnificent.
This year one of the girls graduated high school and was off to college. Now there were too many horses in the barn so Zeus became a companion horse, enjoying semi-retirement with a local stable of horse-smart people... because, after all, he was not just a backyard horse.
And then suddenly out of the blue, through the grapevine, a college recruiter for Rutgers heard about Zeus. His resume was impressive so he was interviewed, just like anyone trying to get into college or get a job. The contact was made... and the rest is history.
So if you go to the Scarlet Knight's stadium at Rutgers this fall, breathe in that river air, scented with mum corsages and popcorn. Take a really big breath so you can bellow out a lusty cheer for our latest college freshman....er...freshman-horse.
"Zeus!"
"Zeus!"
"Zeus!" Yeah, Rutgers!
Horses rock.
Monday, August 16, 2010
Quentin Keynes: Our Darwin Connection
I was scooping out dark corners of my apartment over the weekend, determined to fill garbage bags in a pre-fall cleanup campaign, when I happened upon my chunk of petrified wood. As I regarded it in the afternoon sun, it reminded me of the man who gave it to my husband and me as newlyweds, Quentin Keynes, III.
My husband met Quentin Keynes when he was a student at St. Andrews School prep school for boys in Middletown, Delaware. Quent was a self described African explorer and the great-great-grandson of Charles Darwin. He was very tall, about six feet four or five inches, blonde or light brown hair brushed over Donald Trump-wise. He stooped sometimes and I seem to remember one arm was a bit withered, perhaps a left-over from a bout of polio. He spent his summers in Africa chasing elephants and photographing wildlife for the National Geographic Magazine. In the winter, he went back to the States and toured various prep schools and venues showing his slides and lecturing on his adventures. As if this was not enough to fascinate his young audience, he also owned a Jensen car.
My husband was fascinated by anything mechanical, especially automobiles. This Jensen was made by the same company as Jaguar but was more valuable because there were limited numbers produced each year. I cannot recall precisely but it was very limited, like sixty per year... At any rate, Quent was thrilled to have his car serviced for free and ended up leaving it with my husband's family during the summer time he was touring Africa on safari with his paying schoolboy charges. When they all returned in the fall for the next lecture circuit, he dropped in, picked up his car and set up his next visit.
This was the arrangement for years until my husband and I set up housekeeping. Much to my surprise, even after we married and started a family, Quent presented himself on our doorstep to stay for several days until his next lecture engagement. Then he would take his marvelous one of-a-kind car off on the tour du jour.
In the Victorian era, persons of repute frequently drifted from one household to another with their welcomes predicated on principles of hospitality and the novelty of having a celebrity houseguest. Attitudes changed however and in the sixties and seventies this celebrity became a bit of a nuisance.
I remember once, in an effort to impress this sophisticated Englishman, I pan fried trout for breakfast and served up biscuits, home-made preserves, home canned tomato juice...and he complained he was still hungry so I went back and cooked eggs, skillet potatoes, then oatmeal as a chaser. He did not care much for my version of porridge but ate it anyway.
We had moved recently to a larger home and now had a guest room. We were quite pleased to be able to give him some privacy. The next morning he came thundering down the front stairs of our small colonial and sputtered,
"My laces are gone! Your cat ate my shoes, my laces are destroyed!" He shook his suede shoes at us and exclaimed,
"They were brand new. What am I going to do?"
This was the era of Pat Boone and blue suede shoes were still popular although I think this pair was tan. Before the day was out, his rawhide laces that must have tasted pretty good to the cat, were replaced by conventional braided ones.
Quentin Keynes continued his visits up through the seventies. He left a huge trunk with us that was filled with notes, letters, even a metal sign that had marked the border of Kenya. Africa was changing. Quent's photography was not selling enough to support him and his novelty lectures were waning in popularity. His stories now mentioned the "monkey fever" that seemed to be mysteriously killing people. That later was identified as AIDS and would spread throughout the world.
Sometime in this decade, he showed up with a friend and managed to load up all his belongings in a single trip. As they drove down the driveway I confessed to my husband to having mixed feelings. By now we had two children and a business to run so there was not much time for hosting guests like our Englishman. He replied,
"I wonder if we will ever see him again. Probably not." We were concerned because Quent was showing the toll of years of exposure to the disease and strife in Africa.
Quent became a bittersweet part of the past and recently I found out that he passed away in Connecticut in 2003. His obituary did not give a cause of death but it was June, and, in another time he would have been off to Africa for the summer safari...but at 82 when he died, I like to think he had settled down.
Quentin Keynes represented a cross between the Darwins and the Wedgewoods that produced many scientists, writers, philosophers, doctors, politicians. One uncle was Lord Keynes, the famous economist, another was Physician to the Queen. Even today there is a Keynes at Cambridge University. I have a very old brown earthenware type cup and saucer stamped Wedgewood and I wonder if that came from Quent. Both Quent and my husband are now gone so I guess I will never be sure.
Now it's back to cleaning up the corners of my life and dusting off some more memories. Isn't that what seniors are all about?
Have a nice day.
My husband met Quentin Keynes when he was a student at St. Andrews School prep school for boys in Middletown, Delaware. Quent was a self described African explorer and the great-great-grandson of Charles Darwin. He was very tall, about six feet four or five inches, blonde or light brown hair brushed over Donald Trump-wise. He stooped sometimes and I seem to remember one arm was a bit withered, perhaps a left-over from a bout of polio. He spent his summers in Africa chasing elephants and photographing wildlife for the National Geographic Magazine. In the winter, he went back to the States and toured various prep schools and venues showing his slides and lecturing on his adventures. As if this was not enough to fascinate his young audience, he also owned a Jensen car.
My husband was fascinated by anything mechanical, especially automobiles. This Jensen was made by the same company as Jaguar but was more valuable because there were limited numbers produced each year. I cannot recall precisely but it was very limited, like sixty per year... At any rate, Quent was thrilled to have his car serviced for free and ended up leaving it with my husband's family during the summer time he was touring Africa on safari with his paying schoolboy charges. When they all returned in the fall for the next lecture circuit, he dropped in, picked up his car and set up his next visit.
This was the arrangement for years until my husband and I set up housekeeping. Much to my surprise, even after we married and started a family, Quent presented himself on our doorstep to stay for several days until his next lecture engagement. Then he would take his marvelous one of-a-kind car off on the tour du jour.
In the Victorian era, persons of repute frequently drifted from one household to another with their welcomes predicated on principles of hospitality and the novelty of having a celebrity houseguest. Attitudes changed however and in the sixties and seventies this celebrity became a bit of a nuisance.
I remember once, in an effort to impress this sophisticated Englishman, I pan fried trout for breakfast and served up biscuits, home-made preserves, home canned tomato juice...and he complained he was still hungry so I went back and cooked eggs, skillet potatoes, then oatmeal as a chaser. He did not care much for my version of porridge but ate it anyway.
We had moved recently to a larger home and now had a guest room. We were quite pleased to be able to give him some privacy. The next morning he came thundering down the front stairs of our small colonial and sputtered,
"My laces are gone! Your cat ate my shoes, my laces are destroyed!" He shook his suede shoes at us and exclaimed,
"They were brand new. What am I going to do?"
This was the era of Pat Boone and blue suede shoes were still popular although I think this pair was tan. Before the day was out, his rawhide laces that must have tasted pretty good to the cat, were replaced by conventional braided ones.
Quentin Keynes continued his visits up through the seventies. He left a huge trunk with us that was filled with notes, letters, even a metal sign that had marked the border of Kenya. Africa was changing. Quent's photography was not selling enough to support him and his novelty lectures were waning in popularity. His stories now mentioned the "monkey fever" that seemed to be mysteriously killing people. That later was identified as AIDS and would spread throughout the world.
Sometime in this decade, he showed up with a friend and managed to load up all his belongings in a single trip. As they drove down the driveway I confessed to my husband to having mixed feelings. By now we had two children and a business to run so there was not much time for hosting guests like our Englishman. He replied,
"I wonder if we will ever see him again. Probably not." We were concerned because Quent was showing the toll of years of exposure to the disease and strife in Africa.
Quent became a bittersweet part of the past and recently I found out that he passed away in Connecticut in 2003. His obituary did not give a cause of death but it was June, and, in another time he would have been off to Africa for the summer safari...but at 82 when he died, I like to think he had settled down.
Quentin Keynes represented a cross between the Darwins and the Wedgewoods that produced many scientists, writers, philosophers, doctors, politicians. One uncle was Lord Keynes, the famous economist, another was Physician to the Queen. Even today there is a Keynes at Cambridge University. I have a very old brown earthenware type cup and saucer stamped Wedgewood and I wonder if that came from Quent. Both Quent and my husband are now gone so I guess I will never be sure.
Now it's back to cleaning up the corners of my life and dusting off some more memories. Isn't that what seniors are all about?
Have a nice day.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Mercer County Senior Art Contest Winners
Mercer County will be handsomely represented in the State finals for the New Jersey Senior Art Show in October. Awards for 2010 were presented in ceremonies at Meadow Lakes, East Windsor, New Jersey on Friday, August 13 on what turned out to be a lucky day for nine artists and artisans.
The Best In Show award went to a watercolor of turkeys by Elizabeth Peck entitled "US Senate". It was a viewer favorite and well deserved the honors. Needless to say, it also won first place in watercolors so it is going on to finals.
First place in acrylics went to "Lake Drive" by Pearl Busch. Her painting was vivid in those colors possible only in acrylics. Good choice.
Ronald LeMahieu's ceramic breadbasket entitled "The Loon" was wonderful in its shape and texture. At first glance, it appeared to be constructed of bottle caps, but then a closer look at the many segments revealed its complexity. Its first place moves it to the State finals.
Ming Ji won first place in drawing for her black and white "Forested Mountain". The size of the composition was remarkable and is a sure hit for the October show.
Jackie Wouwenberg's "Nantucket Cottage" was a water color accented by inks and placed first in the mixed media category. This is going to be an interesting entry for October because mixed media can mean any variety of paint combinations and this work is strong enough to hold up to potential competition.
First place in oils went to Norman Fesmire's "Movin' On", a sailboat soaring over the sea. Now it is "movin' on" to finals.
Photography had enough entries for both a professional and non-professional category. First place for the professionals went to Tito Cascieri for "Standing Tall: Navarro California Redwood, 2000 Years Young". First place for non-professionals went to Janie Montervino for "Hidden".
County Mention Awards were awarded as follows:
Acrylic: Beth K. Wham, "Tear Drop Lake"
Craft: Robert Kendall, "Night Flight"
Drawing: Luba Model, "Persian Capbearer"
Mixed Media: Mary S. Johnson, "Meeting in November Woods"
Photography: Walt Varan, "Lifeline"
Oil: Lina Chao, "Africa"
Watercolor: Stephan Marusky, "Still Life"
Our congratulations to the winners and to everyone at the Office of Aging, Division of Culture and Heritage, Meadow Lakes and to all the volunteers who made this event such a success. In a time of belt tightening, this was unexpectedly delightful and well presented. Special thanks to the Mercer County Officials who attended the awards and helped with the acknowlegements of the artists' achievements.
Yesss.
People rock!
The Best In Show award went to a watercolor of turkeys by Elizabeth Peck entitled "US Senate". It was a viewer favorite and well deserved the honors. Needless to say, it also won first place in watercolors so it is going on to finals.
First place in acrylics went to "Lake Drive" by Pearl Busch. Her painting was vivid in those colors possible only in acrylics. Good choice.
Ronald LeMahieu's ceramic breadbasket entitled "The Loon" was wonderful in its shape and texture. At first glance, it appeared to be constructed of bottle caps, but then a closer look at the many segments revealed its complexity. Its first place moves it to the State finals.
Ming Ji won first place in drawing for her black and white "Forested Mountain". The size of the composition was remarkable and is a sure hit for the October show.
Jackie Wouwenberg's "Nantucket Cottage" was a water color accented by inks and placed first in the mixed media category. This is going to be an interesting entry for October because mixed media can mean any variety of paint combinations and this work is strong enough to hold up to potential competition.
First place in oils went to Norman Fesmire's "Movin' On", a sailboat soaring over the sea. Now it is "movin' on" to finals.
Photography had enough entries for both a professional and non-professional category. First place for the professionals went to Tito Cascieri for "Standing Tall: Navarro California Redwood, 2000 Years Young". First place for non-professionals went to Janie Montervino for "Hidden".
County Mention Awards were awarded as follows:
Acrylic: Beth K. Wham, "Tear Drop Lake"
Craft: Robert Kendall, "Night Flight"
Drawing: Luba Model, "Persian Capbearer"
Mixed Media: Mary S. Johnson, "Meeting in November Woods"
Photography: Walt Varan, "Lifeline"
Oil: Lina Chao, "Africa"
Watercolor: Stephan Marusky, "Still Life"
Our congratulations to the winners and to everyone at the Office of Aging, Division of Culture and Heritage, Meadow Lakes and to all the volunteers who made this event such a success. In a time of belt tightening, this was unexpectedly delightful and well presented. Special thanks to the Mercer County Officials who attended the awards and helped with the acknowlegements of the artists' achievements.
Yesss.
People rock!
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Peanut Butter Thursday's "Mack Attack"
Here it is, that time of week again. Peanut butter and jelly Thursday and here I am having a "Mack Attack". That is not to be confused with that big M sandwich of a similiar name....
I had cereal for breakfast, not that you really care, but with so many things on my plate today it seemed like a good way to save time. Now it is lunch time and I am kinda zoned out dreaming of food...
Lettuce, onion, pickle on a sesame seed....
Ha! The only lettuce we see today is strictly the imaginary green stuff. Money, money, money. Come to think of it, our latest generation of township business administrator was a lawyer from Atlantic City or thereabouts who came on board the Mack transition team (at no pay) and stayed to carry on for Bill Guhl....until his firm was in line for a no-bid contract for legal services right up to this week's Council meeting whereapon Mayor Mack opined it would be "foolish" to award the $50,000 plus contract to the Atlantic City firm of Cooper Levenson. I think we are now looking for the next generation of township administrator...
Onion...ahhh fresh pungent sliced onion that makes you weep. Just like this present City Hall. Not only does it make you cry, but the smell just does not go away.
Pickle...c'mon do you really think we are in a pickle? Not only have we been heat cured but now the salty shenanigans of our duly elected representatives have us in a perilous position where Her Clerkness, Ms. Staton, may sue Mayor Mack for a job she got used to, if only for a couple of weeks, and that is going to be defended at our expense. How 'bout that. She works, he squawks, she walks, he crows...and we are all going to pay the attorney fees. At least the Atlantic City guys are out of the picture...or are they going to sue His Honor too?
Sesame seed. The only sesame we have here is wishful thinking as in,
"Open Sesame!"
And we are, all waiting for that magical mountain to crash open and divulge glowing streams of golden funding Federal-wise and treasure chests of silver spilling out of our sterling State bonanza. Ahhh. Right about now we cannot get this genie back into his bottle.
I cannot believe that this new Mayor has been in office a matter of weeks and already we have become front page news for almost every minute of that time. The election was the middle of June and it is only August 12.
Fox news tonight happened to cover Camden luncheon costs for the Delaware Valley Port Authority. I have to check my notes but I think that was the group...and they were running over $400.00 for sandwiches to discuss development in Camden. I am not commenting on their business concerning development in the city of Camden instead of their care of Delaware bridges and ports. But their menu charges? If they were having peanut butter and jelly, even if they had croissants instead of whole wheat, they could have saved 75 percent, including tips.
Mr. Christie....Governor Christie, let's put it in the Constitution. Make every Thursday "Peanut Butter and Jelly Thursday" for all State Business!
People rock.
I had cereal for breakfast, not that you really care, but with so many things on my plate today it seemed like a good way to save time. Now it is lunch time and I am kinda zoned out dreaming of food...
Lettuce, onion, pickle on a sesame seed....
Ha! The only lettuce we see today is strictly the imaginary green stuff. Money, money, money. Come to think of it, our latest generation of township business administrator was a lawyer from Atlantic City or thereabouts who came on board the Mack transition team (at no pay) and stayed to carry on for Bill Guhl....until his firm was in line for a no-bid contract for legal services right up to this week's Council meeting whereapon Mayor Mack opined it would be "foolish" to award the $50,000 plus contract to the Atlantic City firm of Cooper Levenson. I think we are now looking for the next generation of township administrator...
Onion...ahhh fresh pungent sliced onion that makes you weep. Just like this present City Hall. Not only does it make you cry, but the smell just does not go away.
Pickle...c'mon do you really think we are in a pickle? Not only have we been heat cured but now the salty shenanigans of our duly elected representatives have us in a perilous position where Her Clerkness, Ms. Staton, may sue Mayor Mack for a job she got used to, if only for a couple of weeks, and that is going to be defended at our expense. How 'bout that. She works, he squawks, she walks, he crows...and we are all going to pay the attorney fees. At least the Atlantic City guys are out of the picture...or are they going to sue His Honor too?
Sesame seed. The only sesame we have here is wishful thinking as in,
"Open Sesame!"
And we are, all waiting for that magical mountain to crash open and divulge glowing streams of golden funding Federal-wise and treasure chests of silver spilling out of our sterling State bonanza. Ahhh. Right about now we cannot get this genie back into his bottle.
I cannot believe that this new Mayor has been in office a matter of weeks and already we have become front page news for almost every minute of that time. The election was the middle of June and it is only August 12.
Fox news tonight happened to cover Camden luncheon costs for the Delaware Valley Port Authority. I have to check my notes but I think that was the group...and they were running over $400.00 for sandwiches to discuss development in Camden. I am not commenting on their business concerning development in the city of Camden instead of their care of Delaware bridges and ports. But their menu charges? If they were having peanut butter and jelly, even if they had croissants instead of whole wheat, they could have saved 75 percent, including tips.
Mr. Christie....Governor Christie, let's put it in the Constitution. Make every Thursday "Peanut Butter and Jelly Thursday" for all State Business!
People rock.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Hambletonian Made the Day
Saturday was a perfect August day, hot and sunny, air like a feather... even if it started at 4:30am. I was traveling with a group of horsemen who were invited to participate in the Hambletonian's opening activities, and it felt like a country fair.
We were assigned stabling with several mounted police groups and other non-racing entities. The walk from the barns to the paddock area of the grandstand had to be almost a mile, pleasant enough with inviting brick-lined walkways shaded by tall trees for a country fair effect. Add hot dog vendors, beer, pretzels and hordes of people in lawn chairs and you get a hopeful feeling that maybe racing has a future.
I soon found a spot in the paddock in some shade, opened my Hambletonian program, sipped my beer, and watched people and horses with a degree of contentment. I met a cute blonde lass who looked about 20, who told me that the Hambletonian was so honored in her native Denmark that on the day of the Hambletonian, all racing would be suspended from that 3 to 4pm slot until the USA broadcast was over.
"All racing stops".
She was at the Hambletonian as an assistant trainer to Jimmy Takter. I commented that I saw where he had trained three horses that were all running in the big race. Quite an accomplishment in this day and age. She agreed and invited me to visit the stables in Monmouth County. I accepted, of course.
Later in the afternoon, I scanned the list of assistant trainers in the racing program and spotted a name that looked like it might be Swedish or Danish. I made a note of the horse, number 6, and turned my thought to other things like the woman standing behind me now in the paddock.
Let me mention here, that I find if you are in a walker or wheelchair, it breaks the ice. Sometimes people are awkward, sometimes they turn away, but for the most part, being disabled is mainstream now and most people have a comfort level dealing with it. Even one of the track employees, in his sixties I'd guess, spent several of his breaks chatting with me.
Now this quietly well dressed lady standing at my elbow struck up a conversation. Her name matched her down to earth appearance,... Miller. I looked her up later and she and her husband, Larry W. Miller were from Springport, Indiana. She told me that she and her husband had a small barn and had been involved with racing for about ten years. When I asked her if they were racing today, she told me that it was easy to remember,
"Horse number 8 in the eighth race. His name is Mercedes but we call him Duke. Eight in 8...easy to remember."
I was still chuckling at that when my son-in-law dropped by and asked if I would teach my gorgeous grandaughter, who just turned 18, how to bet horses. She was one of the original riders who thought the Meadowlands was going to be just "Ho-Hum and So Boring" but had succumbed to the music of the Nerds, the awesome crowds and young horsey males milling about.
I told him that anyone who bets on horses is nuts...but that I could help her read the program, at least. Then, as an afterthought, I said,
"Oh, yeah, maybe that number 6 in the Hambletonian."
Well to make a long story short, number 6, Muscle Massive by Muscles Yankee, trained by Jimmy Takter, driven by Ron Pierce, won the Hambletonian. That is the 84th running of the most prestigious race in trotting history...
Yep.
'Nuff, said.
And I don't bet on horses. Who knew?
Turns out that earlier that morning everyone in the horsemen's group had been looking for a quick escape home after the parade. After their commitment was over, all they wanted to do load up horses and boogie. That was... until...they found out that they were having heck of a good time! Most of our group did not start back until well after 4pm in the afternoon. That is a full day.
Now if Meadowsland track management can take some of this successful Hambletonian atmosphere and bottle it, maybe this Eau de Succcess will convince Governor Christie that this industry is truly worth saving. There were thousands of people in the grandstands, paddock, and lawn area.
The country fair venues of the Meadowlands and the family barbecue areas of Monmouth Racetrack should give Governor Christie an encouraging glimpse of how family friendly this sport can be. The betting areas are far enough from the fair activities that gambling can be managed and secured.
Personally, I would like to see slot machines at the track because there are some gamblers who find the intervals between races boring. The income from slot machines will mean larger more profitable purses for horsemen. The State subsidies now carrying horsemen could be backed off to free up money for other areas in the State budget. Also, if the same 8 percent gross revenue tax, dedicated to seniors and the disabled (which now pays for nutrition programs, transportation, PAAD and Senior Gold prescription programs)were in place, it would be consistent with the present NJ Constitution.
One of the horsemen told me that the Governor is hoping that the Standardbred Breeders in New Jersey might buy the Meadowlands. Now that is not a bad idea if they can get financing. Has anyone thought of combining them with a casino entity like Harrah's which has casinos in many states? It does not seem fair that over $171,000,000 in tax credits has been bandied about for rescuing a dead fish like Xanadu when harness racing so obviously has a popular base already in place.
You do not have to bet to have a great time...and I had a ball.
Have a nice day.
We were assigned stabling with several mounted police groups and other non-racing entities. The walk from the barns to the paddock area of the grandstand had to be almost a mile, pleasant enough with inviting brick-lined walkways shaded by tall trees for a country fair effect. Add hot dog vendors, beer, pretzels and hordes of people in lawn chairs and you get a hopeful feeling that maybe racing has a future.
I soon found a spot in the paddock in some shade, opened my Hambletonian program, sipped my beer, and watched people and horses with a degree of contentment. I met a cute blonde lass who looked about 20, who told me that the Hambletonian was so honored in her native Denmark that on the day of the Hambletonian, all racing would be suspended from that 3 to 4pm slot until the USA broadcast was over.
"All racing stops".
She was at the Hambletonian as an assistant trainer to Jimmy Takter. I commented that I saw where he had trained three horses that were all running in the big race. Quite an accomplishment in this day and age. She agreed and invited me to visit the stables in Monmouth County. I accepted, of course.
Later in the afternoon, I scanned the list of assistant trainers in the racing program and spotted a name that looked like it might be Swedish or Danish. I made a note of the horse, number 6, and turned my thought to other things like the woman standing behind me now in the paddock.
Let me mention here, that I find if you are in a walker or wheelchair, it breaks the ice. Sometimes people are awkward, sometimes they turn away, but for the most part, being disabled is mainstream now and most people have a comfort level dealing with it. Even one of the track employees, in his sixties I'd guess, spent several of his breaks chatting with me.
Now this quietly well dressed lady standing at my elbow struck up a conversation. Her name matched her down to earth appearance,... Miller. I looked her up later and she and her husband, Larry W. Miller were from Springport, Indiana. She told me that she and her husband had a small barn and had been involved with racing for about ten years. When I asked her if they were racing today, she told me that it was easy to remember,
"Horse number 8 in the eighth race. His name is Mercedes but we call him Duke. Eight in 8...easy to remember."
I was still chuckling at that when my son-in-law dropped by and asked if I would teach my gorgeous grandaughter, who just turned 18, how to bet horses. She was one of the original riders who thought the Meadowlands was going to be just "Ho-Hum and So Boring" but had succumbed to the music of the Nerds, the awesome crowds and young horsey males milling about.
I told him that anyone who bets on horses is nuts...but that I could help her read the program, at least. Then, as an afterthought, I said,
"Oh, yeah, maybe that number 6 in the Hambletonian."
Well to make a long story short, number 6, Muscle Massive by Muscles Yankee, trained by Jimmy Takter, driven by Ron Pierce, won the Hambletonian. That is the 84th running of the most prestigious race in trotting history...
Yep.
'Nuff, said.
And I don't bet on horses. Who knew?
Turns out that earlier that morning everyone in the horsemen's group had been looking for a quick escape home after the parade. After their commitment was over, all they wanted to do load up horses and boogie. That was... until...they found out that they were having heck of a good time! Most of our group did not start back until well after 4pm in the afternoon. That is a full day.
Now if Meadowsland track management can take some of this successful Hambletonian atmosphere and bottle it, maybe this Eau de Succcess will convince Governor Christie that this industry is truly worth saving. There were thousands of people in the grandstands, paddock, and lawn area.
The country fair venues of the Meadowlands and the family barbecue areas of Monmouth Racetrack should give Governor Christie an encouraging glimpse of how family friendly this sport can be. The betting areas are far enough from the fair activities that gambling can be managed and secured.
Personally, I would like to see slot machines at the track because there are some gamblers who find the intervals between races boring. The income from slot machines will mean larger more profitable purses for horsemen. The State subsidies now carrying horsemen could be backed off to free up money for other areas in the State budget. Also, if the same 8 percent gross revenue tax, dedicated to seniors and the disabled (which now pays for nutrition programs, transportation, PAAD and Senior Gold prescription programs)were in place, it would be consistent with the present NJ Constitution.
One of the horsemen told me that the Governor is hoping that the Standardbred Breeders in New Jersey might buy the Meadowlands. Now that is not a bad idea if they can get financing. Has anyone thought of combining them with a casino entity like Harrah's which has casinos in many states? It does not seem fair that over $171,000,000 in tax credits has been bandied about for rescuing a dead fish like Xanadu when harness racing so obviously has a popular base already in place.
You do not have to bet to have a great time...and I had a ball.
Have a nice day.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Mayor Mack: Clever or Clueless?
I was greeted yesterday morning by a friend who wanted to know if I had seen the front page of the Trentonian. "Tony Mack In Foreclosure" was not that much of a surprise.
I commented several times in the past election season that I was concerned about turning over the books of this city to someone who apparently could not even balance his checkbook. Money troubles have dogged His Honor for years, but he never gave up his goal of becoming this city's mayor.
It is too simplistic to say that he ran because he had a grudge with Doug Palmer. Admittedly there was a lot of troubled water under that bridge, but they had an amicable transfer of power.
The present appointments in this regime are being questioned on many fronts. I spoke to Tony Mack several times when he visited here at Pellettieri Homes and had an opportunity to point out the need to change the face of this city to the world, the need to help felons back into society, even expounded on the need to sell the outlying parts of the city water company.
I see now where Eric Jackson is working as an assistant at the water company. Tony had the smarts to put him under Bill Guhl's wing for several weeks to give him a taste of the city administration. When he transferred him to the water company, this gave Tony an opportunity to get Eric's input on the real status of the financial headaches of that organization and maybe set some real-time goals.
I am hoping that this outsider viewpoint will help Tony,the Mayor, make some informed decisions about this albatross around the city's neck. I have known of several towns who thought that the maintenance of pipes and meters, replacement of aging structures, so burdensome that they sold their whole kit and kaboodle for $1.00 to anyone who could take over the problems.
As to the appointment of Mr. Badger to housing and development duties: Unless this chap is presently involved in skulduggery, let's give him a chance. The real estate licensing authority saw fit to let him be active to date. When does this society forgive and let felons who serve their time back into the real world? Also, we have a Republican Governor with a prosecutorial background just a few doors down in the State House who will be peering at this administration with a magnifying glass.
If there is something amiss, the Trentonian will sell a lot of papers. And that brings me to one of the most important issues facing us today. What does the rest of the world think of us? Do you really think that these headlines are going to bring tourist and business dollars into our economy?
We have to turn down the smarmy opportunists who are hovering like vultures. We must have an honest administration. Having financial problems can be a result of bad investments, bad luck or just plain stupidity but are not necessarily indicative of illegal activities. Throughout the city's history, some of her most successful characters were charismatic frauds and speculators, with suckers drawn to them like moths to a flame.
Let us hope that this administration is different.
Have a nice day.
I commented several times in the past election season that I was concerned about turning over the books of this city to someone who apparently could not even balance his checkbook. Money troubles have dogged His Honor for years, but he never gave up his goal of becoming this city's mayor.
It is too simplistic to say that he ran because he had a grudge with Doug Palmer. Admittedly there was a lot of troubled water under that bridge, but they had an amicable transfer of power.
The present appointments in this regime are being questioned on many fronts. I spoke to Tony Mack several times when he visited here at Pellettieri Homes and had an opportunity to point out the need to change the face of this city to the world, the need to help felons back into society, even expounded on the need to sell the outlying parts of the city water company.
I see now where Eric Jackson is working as an assistant at the water company. Tony had the smarts to put him under Bill Guhl's wing for several weeks to give him a taste of the city administration. When he transferred him to the water company, this gave Tony an opportunity to get Eric's input on the real status of the financial headaches of that organization and maybe set some real-time goals.
I am hoping that this outsider viewpoint will help Tony,the Mayor, make some informed decisions about this albatross around the city's neck. I have known of several towns who thought that the maintenance of pipes and meters, replacement of aging structures, so burdensome that they sold their whole kit and kaboodle for $1.00 to anyone who could take over the problems.
As to the appointment of Mr. Badger to housing and development duties: Unless this chap is presently involved in skulduggery, let's give him a chance. The real estate licensing authority saw fit to let him be active to date. When does this society forgive and let felons who serve their time back into the real world? Also, we have a Republican Governor with a prosecutorial background just a few doors down in the State House who will be peering at this administration with a magnifying glass.
If there is something amiss, the Trentonian will sell a lot of papers. And that brings me to one of the most important issues facing us today. What does the rest of the world think of us? Do you really think that these headlines are going to bring tourist and business dollars into our economy?
We have to turn down the smarmy opportunists who are hovering like vultures. We must have an honest administration. Having financial problems can be a result of bad investments, bad luck or just plain stupidity but are not necessarily indicative of illegal activities. Throughout the city's history, some of her most successful characters were charismatic frauds and speculators, with suckers drawn to them like moths to a flame.
Let us hope that this administration is different.
Have a nice day.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Mercer County Seniors Art Show
The combined efforts of almost a hundred exhibitors, the Mercer County Office on Aging, and the Division of Culture and Heritage have once again proved a winning combination.
Entries for the 2010 show are now being exhibited at the Meadow Lakes complex at 300 Meadow Lakes, East Windsor. This is the grounds of the Springpoint Foundation and truly a spectacular venue for the variety of entries.
Visitors may call at Meadow Lakes from 10:00 am to 4:00 pm weekdays until the last day of show, August 13. Groups of six or more are asked to call with 24 hour notice, so as not to disturb the elderly residents of Meadow Lakes. The closing reception is Friday, August 13, from 1:30pm to 3:30pm, after which paintings may be removed to take home.
The classifications of entries for this year's show were well attended for the most part. The variety and quality of the art and artists is a warm reminder that Mercer County harbors more than one candidate for the Grandma Moses crown.
Hope to see you all for the reception on the 13th...
Art rocks!
Entries for the 2010 show are now being exhibited at the Meadow Lakes complex at 300 Meadow Lakes, East Windsor. This is the grounds of the Springpoint Foundation and truly a spectacular venue for the variety of entries.
Visitors may call at Meadow Lakes from 10:00 am to 4:00 pm weekdays until the last day of show, August 13. Groups of six or more are asked to call with 24 hour notice, so as not to disturb the elderly residents of Meadow Lakes. The closing reception is Friday, August 13, from 1:30pm to 3:30pm, after which paintings may be removed to take home.
The classifications of entries for this year's show were well attended for the most part. The variety and quality of the art and artists is a warm reminder that Mercer County harbors more than one candidate for the Grandma Moses crown.
Hope to see you all for the reception on the 13th...
Art rocks!
Monday, August 2, 2010
Goldsmith Maid: "Queen of the Trotters"
Goldsmith Maid was born in 1857 in the shadows of the Kittatiny Mountains of Sussex County. Her owner, John B. Decker of Deckertown, named his new filly "Maid", a good one syllable name for a potential work horse. She was a handsome bay with no white points but never grew taller than 15 1/4 hands, (61 inches high at the withers). She was described as being "wiry" and even "tucked up" towards her hind quarters, but pleasant enough to look at, especially with nostrils flared and the fierce look in her eyes.
Her dam, known as "Old Ab" after her sire Abdallah, was sweet and docile. Decker bred Old Ab to Alexander's Abdallah,(formerly known as Edsall's Hambletonian), who was sired by Rysdyk's Hambletonian, also a grandson of Abdallah. Horsemen refer to this inbreeding as line breeding. John B. Decker was hoping for a farm horse, but this breeding gave him a fire cracker.
According to an account by John Dimon in the November 29, 1877 edition of the "Cultivator and Country Gentleman", Maid was "nervous and fretful" and a "wayward child". Once when farmer Decker tried to hitch her to a harrow, she reared up, tangled herself in the harness, and threw herself in a tantrum. She was lame for quite a while after that.
About once a month, possibly coming into season, she would get loose and gallop for a visit over the neighboring farms and fields. She was skilled at clearing fences, streams, ditches, everything in her path, plowed fields or whatever, finding her way home after six to eight miles of the grand tour only to land back in the same field where she started. This burst of spirit and energy would hold her for a while and then it would be off to the neighbors' corn fields again.
This was 1863, the time of the "great rebellion", and horses were in short supply for the army. Mrs. Decker was so annoyed at the problem mare that she prevailed on her husband to sell Maid to one of these recruiters staying with them overnight. In the dawn, the deal was struck for $260.
Well, the next morning traveling down the road, the poor chap realized he had more than he bargained for. When a neighboring farmer, Mr. Thomkins, stopped him on the road and expressed interest, he happily resold the filly for $360.
Mr. Thomkins tried to drive her but she was too much horse for him and he found her gaits "dangerous". He sold her "in trade" to Alden Goldsmith of Blooming Grove in Orange County, New York for $600 in cash and a second hand buggy.
Her new owner changed her name to Goldsmith Maid and turned her over to his driver, William Bodine, who must have been the 1800's version of a horse whisperer. He saw that the 8 year old mare was unbroken and also had a troubling upper respiratory infection. Bodine figured out that this mare had to set her own pace. She hated being encumbered so they worked her without check reins, martingale, blinders or a whip. This meant she could finally work and breathe unimpeded. Thus a compromise was struck. The mare responded and it was like harnessing lightning.
Goldsmith Maid trotted her first race in August 1865, won some local races, and then set track records in Goshen, New York (a mile in 2 minutes 26 seconds in three heats), and a record in Mystic Park racetrack in boston in 1868 with the time of 2:21 1/2.
It was a shame that her career started so late. She was broken at the age of 8, raced brilliantly for three years, and now Goldsmith realized that as an 11 year old she was running out of time.
In 1868 she was sold again to Budd Doble from Trenton, New Jersey for $20,000. He was the son of Willian H. Doble who kept Trenton's Eagle Hotel and had five sons who were all horsemen and drivers. This was the beginning of the Trenton connection.
Doble raced Goldsmith Maid for another six years, winning races from Buffalo to Sacramento, California. He was the PT Barnum of this horse era, fitting a private custom railroad car for Goldsmith Maid, advertising appearances and making a lot of money. Maid was immensely popular with the American public, appearing in match races with locals' top horses and even making it to Currier and Ives popular prints.
Budd Doble maintained his horse business at the site of the Trenton Fairgrounds. There was a mile track, grandstands, stables and several fields of hay and grain. In early 1870's, he became involved with Henry N. Smith, the financier with a love for horseflesh. Smith had stables in New York and started buying up land in the Trenton area with the idea of setting up a premium horse breeding operation.
In 1873, there was a terrible fire at the stables, now known as the Fashion Stud Farms, and Doble managed to save Goldsmith Maid. Nine other horses, including two road-mares owned by President Ulysses Grant, were killed. A year after this setback Goldsmith Maid was sold for reportedly $35,000 to Henry N. Smith.
For the last years of her career, her glory days, she defended her title with Budd Doble driving. Her record of a mile in two minutes and 14 seconds held for some time. She earned a total of $364,200 in her career and that record would hold for almost a hundred years, until the 1950's.
She died suddenly on September 23, 1885 at the age of 28. She had developed pheumonia in an age before antibiotics, and an autopsy showed she had an enlarged heart. She was buried on the grounds of Fashion Stud Farms and her monument is in Hamilton Township at Kuser Park.
If you go to one of the Hamilton Township Sunday night concerts under the stars at the gazebo in Kuser Park, look over at the tennis courts. Look where the elbow of the driveway meets the Mansion's service road, where those flowers have been so carefully planted. That engraved granite marker is her public's monument to the forever free-spirited and famous Goldsmith Maid.
Trenton rocks.
Her dam, known as "Old Ab" after her sire Abdallah, was sweet and docile. Decker bred Old Ab to Alexander's Abdallah,(formerly known as Edsall's Hambletonian), who was sired by Rysdyk's Hambletonian, also a grandson of Abdallah. Horsemen refer to this inbreeding as line breeding. John B. Decker was hoping for a farm horse, but this breeding gave him a fire cracker.
According to an account by John Dimon in the November 29, 1877 edition of the "Cultivator and Country Gentleman", Maid was "nervous and fretful" and a "wayward child". Once when farmer Decker tried to hitch her to a harrow, she reared up, tangled herself in the harness, and threw herself in a tantrum. She was lame for quite a while after that.
About once a month, possibly coming into season, she would get loose and gallop for a visit over the neighboring farms and fields. She was skilled at clearing fences, streams, ditches, everything in her path, plowed fields or whatever, finding her way home after six to eight miles of the grand tour only to land back in the same field where she started. This burst of spirit and energy would hold her for a while and then it would be off to the neighbors' corn fields again.
This was 1863, the time of the "great rebellion", and horses were in short supply for the army. Mrs. Decker was so annoyed at the problem mare that she prevailed on her husband to sell Maid to one of these recruiters staying with them overnight. In the dawn, the deal was struck for $260.
Well, the next morning traveling down the road, the poor chap realized he had more than he bargained for. When a neighboring farmer, Mr. Thomkins, stopped him on the road and expressed interest, he happily resold the filly for $360.
Mr. Thomkins tried to drive her but she was too much horse for him and he found her gaits "dangerous". He sold her "in trade" to Alden Goldsmith of Blooming Grove in Orange County, New York for $600 in cash and a second hand buggy.
Her new owner changed her name to Goldsmith Maid and turned her over to his driver, William Bodine, who must have been the 1800's version of a horse whisperer. He saw that the 8 year old mare was unbroken and also had a troubling upper respiratory infection. Bodine figured out that this mare had to set her own pace. She hated being encumbered so they worked her without check reins, martingale, blinders or a whip. This meant she could finally work and breathe unimpeded. Thus a compromise was struck. The mare responded and it was like harnessing lightning.
Goldsmith Maid trotted her first race in August 1865, won some local races, and then set track records in Goshen, New York (a mile in 2 minutes 26 seconds in three heats), and a record in Mystic Park racetrack in boston in 1868 with the time of 2:21 1/2.
It was a shame that her career started so late. She was broken at the age of 8, raced brilliantly for three years, and now Goldsmith realized that as an 11 year old she was running out of time.
In 1868 she was sold again to Budd Doble from Trenton, New Jersey for $20,000. He was the son of Willian H. Doble who kept Trenton's Eagle Hotel and had five sons who were all horsemen and drivers. This was the beginning of the Trenton connection.
Doble raced Goldsmith Maid for another six years, winning races from Buffalo to Sacramento, California. He was the PT Barnum of this horse era, fitting a private custom railroad car for Goldsmith Maid, advertising appearances and making a lot of money. Maid was immensely popular with the American public, appearing in match races with locals' top horses and even making it to Currier and Ives popular prints.
Budd Doble maintained his horse business at the site of the Trenton Fairgrounds. There was a mile track, grandstands, stables and several fields of hay and grain. In early 1870's, he became involved with Henry N. Smith, the financier with a love for horseflesh. Smith had stables in New York and started buying up land in the Trenton area with the idea of setting up a premium horse breeding operation.
In 1873, there was a terrible fire at the stables, now known as the Fashion Stud Farms, and Doble managed to save Goldsmith Maid. Nine other horses, including two road-mares owned by President Ulysses Grant, were killed. A year after this setback Goldsmith Maid was sold for reportedly $35,000 to Henry N. Smith.
For the last years of her career, her glory days, she defended her title with Budd Doble driving. Her record of a mile in two minutes and 14 seconds held for some time. She earned a total of $364,200 in her career and that record would hold for almost a hundred years, until the 1950's.
She died suddenly on September 23, 1885 at the age of 28. She had developed pheumonia in an age before antibiotics, and an autopsy showed she had an enlarged heart. She was buried on the grounds of Fashion Stud Farms and her monument is in Hamilton Township at Kuser Park.
If you go to one of the Hamilton Township Sunday night concerts under the stars at the gazebo in Kuser Park, look over at the tennis courts. Look where the elbow of the driveway meets the Mansion's service road, where those flowers have been so carefully planted. That engraved granite marker is her public's monument to the forever free-spirited and famous Goldsmith Maid.
Trenton rocks.
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