In my last article, I extolled the virtues of Saratoga Race Course and recounted our little group’s first visit there, in the mid 90’s. You might remember that, having been virtually intoxicated by the place, we swore we’d return as soon as we could. And we did, heading off again the following year, angling to once again be, in Saratoga tradition, taken back a hundred years. This time, we were determined to find a place to stay that was closer to the track but still within our budget.
Since most of the traffic to the Spa comes from Albany and other points south, we began looking for lodging north of the track. Before the construction of the Interstate system in the late 1950’s, many American small towns were thriving, since state routes were the main roads on which people and commerce traveled. These thoroughfares tended to be lined with small motels, usually family-run, hardly ever corporate chains, except maybe a Howard Johnson’s. The introduction of the interstate, of course, caused many of these small businesses to suffer as people bypassed these towns on their way to points both north and south.
As luck would have it, several miles north of the track along State Route 9 was a town called South Glens Falls. We found that dozens of the type of motel we were looking for existed there. But these were pre-Internet days, so we were forced to choose an establishment without seeing the place or having any referrals from friends or acquaintances. We settled on one, called, had a very nice chat with the lady who ran the place, and made reservations.
Weary after the nine hour drive from Ohio, but excited nonetheless, we finally arrived. The place was called The Graylyn Motel, and it was what we had expected, quaint but clean. It had about 20 rooms, each of which opened directly onto the parking lot. There was a small pool and several picnic tables in the yard. Food was only available in town or at the local gas station, as there was no restaurant at the motel. The proprietor welcomed us warmly; she and her elderly mother lived in the small house attached to the office. The towels were clean, but none of them matched, which I took as a sign that the rooms were very old. We received clean ones every day, but we were never able to find any two alike.
Not that that bothered us; we were there to handicap and play the horses, not worry about what the towels looked like. Although the motel’s paper-like bathmats did seem a bit unusual. Slightly more unusual, perhaps, was the fact that there were no telephones in the rooms. None of us had a cell phone back then, so communication with our families was at some risk. We asked if one was available in the office for our use. The proprietor said no and directed us to a pole outside the building that had a payphone mounted on it. Mind you, this wasn’t a booth, or anything so fancy – it was literally a phone mounted to a pole. We adapted as we could, taking pains to remember to hoard our quarters for our nightly calls. We took turns phoning home and were obliged to keep calls short, not only because of the cost, but also due to the noise of trucks passing on the nearby highway.
Early the next morning we headed off for the track. Because it was the middle of the week, we easily secured a picnic table and set out our spread of coolers, snacks, drinks, and umbrellas. Having set up, we proceeded to the grandstand to watch the horses train. It was a beautiful Saratoga morming, sunny and slightly cool and filled with expensive and gorgeous horses. To add to the experience, we later discovered that directly across the street was the National Horse Racing Museum. The museum is filled with old photos, movies, memorabilia, and even a starting gate. More importantly, it is the home of the Horse Racing Hall of Fame. Anyone who loves this game owes it to him- or herself to one day make the pilgrimage. It is an absolute must for horse racing fans.
The beauty of the interior is only surpassed by the technology that allows you to see great old races and to view information on both the human and equine inductees. We also discovered that they offered an hour long morning tour of the Oklahoma training track, which sits just across Union Avenue from the actual track itself. This experience is much different than the one at the track, which includes a tram ride to the backside and a guided tour.
The Oklahoma track tour was a walking tour that took us about an hour and brought us up close to the actual track and to many of the big-name trainers and owners who had been a part of Saratoga for decades. It is serene and quiet, and many of the barns are located just outside the backyards of some of the most expensive houses in Saratoga Springs. These long-established outfits have barns with decorative hanging plants, landscaped lawns and gardens surrounding their horses. You are able to walk up close to these places and watch real veteran horsemen at work in the tree-covered shade of a cool morning, and then walk another 50 yards and watch these magnificent horses work out on the track while you stand on the rail. All of which adds to the majesty of the Spa.
Back at the track after the tour, we sat in the box seats of the rich and famous, had a snack, and watched the horses run through their morning exercises.
The horses all wear saddle towels marked with insignia representing their trainers. This allows official track clockers to easily identify horses when they are recording an official workout. It also lets spectators pick out horses that belong to specific trainers. To assist fans in this process, and to point out special horses training in the morning, the track provided an announcer, Mary Ryan (later Mary Ryan-Hirsch.) She was a legend. Mary had been doing this morning gig for years, knew all the trainers, and was a wealth of horse racing history. Her commentary was a must, and the fact that the Spa provided an announcer for morning workouts shows their dedication to making the fan experience like no other.
I had read somewhere about a hole in the wall restaurant several miles from the track called the Everglades. It had 8 tables in the small dining room inside, with a large outdoor area with about a dozen picnic tables covered with a circus-like tent. I discovered that many trainers and horse people who worked the barns on the backside of the track went there for the barbecue ribs. We stopped there on our way back to the Graylyn after the races one evening and experienced not only an extraordinary meal – they were right about the ribs – but also saw Hall of Fame trainer Shug McGaughey. This place rapidly became an epicurean must.
Another dining tradition we started was that, right after watching morning workouts and listening to Mary Ryan – this was normally about an hour before the gates opened – we crossed the street adjacent to the backside of the track and ate breakfast at a restaurant called the Horseshoe. It was tucked in among the houses near the track, it was open early for breakfast, and it stayed open late for after-race partying. What made it so unusual was that it was surrounded by residential homes, and many of them had small barns or horse stalls right in their backyards. During the racing season, many of these places were rented out to horsemen, who valued the serenity of this spot away from the track. This allowed for the sight of horses walking down the middle of the streets leading to the track and, coincidentally, right by the Horseshoe. Equine athletes come first at the Spa, so crossing guards are periodically stationed along these streets to stop traffic and allow horses to cross back and forth to the track.
It didn’t take us long to discover another must do, a restaurant called Sirio’s. Sirio’s offered a free handicapping seminar, which was held outside in back of the place and hosted by veteran sportswriter and lover of all things Saratoga, Harvey Pack. Harvey would invite other professional handicappers to sit on the panel and give their opinions on that day’s race card. Harvey was witty and engaging, and often the experts would give other insights into horses, trainers, or jockeys participating in the races of that day. You could hear their opinions and listen to the justification of them, instead of simply reading their picks on a page. These opinions were honest and sometimes controversial, but always entertaining.
As you can see, our days started early, and contained a variety of activities before the actual races even started, usually around 1:00 pm. And I’m pleased to say that all of our pre-race traditions continue to this day. Before the races, we set up camp under the huge trees behind the grandstand, walk to the paddock and take a drink from the famous Big Red Spring, relax in our chairs, light up a cigar, tap on our (very) full stomachs, close our eyes, and let our imaginations, and the glory of Saratoga, take us back a hundred years.
