Allerton and Axtell

by Gary Lee Martinson

  Several street dances were planned to entertain the crowds in the evenings after the days races. There would be several plays presented at Kings Hall Opera House on Main Street. Kings Hall was the largest opera house west of the Mississippi River when it was built shortly after the big fire in 1874. Kings Hall was going to be a busy place during the race week. The owner Charles L. King, had booked many actors and plays to appear at the opera house.

  They also planned to have several shows to entertain the children during the races. Many women’s organizations, arranged places and young ladies to entertain children.

  The railroad had to add several passenger cars to their regular routes and even added a few trains to the daily schedule to handle the extra number of people expected. There was a special twelve- car train that arrived from Chicago before the races started, full of people. There were five trains with sleeper cars to be parked on side tracks to assist in the housing for up to two thousand people.

  Two weeks before the races were to start, people began to arrive. Many were family members of those who lived in town and stayed with their relatives. Others were from around the county to help with the preparations and servicing during the races.

  Several days before the meet, the hotels filled up with owners of the horses, and hundreds of tents sprang up everywhere. This gave the appearance in town of true camp town races. Hotels gave special rates for those doubled up in rooms and slept in shifts because of the need for sleeping space. Everyone in town, and many from around the county, had taken on some type of extra responsibility during the meet.

  Miss Timms, the reporter, was traveling on the Burlington Cedar Rapids Northern Railroad from Minneapolis on August 23rd. She wanted to get to Independence a few days early so she could take a look around town and see the track before the races. While on the train she overheard a conversation between two men seated across from her.

  One of the men was a middle-aged, stuffy, over-weight man, well dressed and wearing a spectacle on one eye. His grey hair was thin and stringy, at least from what was visible from under his hat. The other man, was in his early twenties, medium height, astutely-dressed, and had wavy blonde hair. The older man spoke to him, “If this Williams fellow doesn’t charge more for an entry fee, his business is not going to be around very long. How can he expect to survive in this business with such ridiculously low fees and large purses.”

  The younger man replied, “Well, he has us going to the races doesn’t he? We will spend our money in his town and at his track. We will be enjoying ourselves immensely while others cater to our needs. What is it to us if he doesn’t make it?”

  “The man must be mad,” the older gentleman retorted. “Giving out two thousand dollar stakes and only taking one to five percent for an entry fee. He should at least be taking the normal ten percent. Then on top of that, he allows them to back out, without keeping their fees. I believe his lucky success has made him absolutely mad. He thinks whatever he does will turn out like roses.”

  “I guess we’ll just have to wait and see,” the young man responded.

  The vocal Miss Timms was anxious to join in the conversation. “I believe the man wants only to promote his town and good will toward the harness racing industry.”

  “That’s what I mean. If you can’t make a good profit, why do it at all?”

  Miss Timms looked for a reason to express herself. “It may be strange to you, but to some people money is only something needed to survive and live the way you choose. Money isn’t the key to success; or happiness; or the measure of a persons personal accomplishments.” She had gotten the attention of the younger man, but the older man continued to shake his head. He looked as though he was going to speak, but Miss Timms quickly continued. “I remember several breeders mocking him because of his theory of how to train his horses. Yet, the first two horses he has raised, have both become world class trotters.”

  “It is only luck that has done this,” the older gentleman procrastinated.

  “Poppy cock,” she said. This startled the two men who were surprised this young woman would be so brash as to say, ‘Poppy Cock’ to them. “Take, for instance, Leland Stanford. Everybody knows who he is because he has millions of dollars and years of breeding experience. He hires the best trainers to train his,” She emphasized the next few words, “several hundred horses. He has the best track, Palo Alto, to train them on. They can train year round in the California climate. Yet, he can only wrestle away the record from Mr. Williams for a short time.” She changed her tone to reflect a quiet peaceful voice, “A quiet Mr. Williams, from some no name town in Iowa, goes out and calmly sets new records with his few horses. Horses that he foaled from two mares he bought for peanuts and bred to two descent blood-lined stallions that nobody has ever heard of.” She raised her eyebrows in a triumphant finish to her statement.

  “Huh,” the old man shook his head. “I heard he had used Mr. Stanford’s training ideas to train his horses. So really he owes his success to Leland Stanford.”

  “Poppy cock, again. He along with many other trainers used some of Mr. Stanford’s training ideas, but he also trained these horses himself, his own way. His way of training is very different then most in many ways, many different ways than even Mr. Stanford’s trainers use.”

  The man looked at her with complete loss of words. The blonde gentleman with him finally got a word in, “Now, with this new track he has built, he has the best racing facility in the country. We may hear about this Mr. Williams for a long time to come.”

  Finally the older gentleman spoke out in defiance, “I don’t know why I am even talking to a woman about this.” Miss Timms chuckled and the blonde gentleman smiled as his friend turned away from them.

  “You intrigue me, Miss,” the blonde gentleman said, “Would you accompany me for dinner this evening?”

  “Sorry,” she replied in a tone of indifference to his question, “we haven’t been properly introduced.” She sat back in her seat and placed a newspaper in her face to hide it from the younger gentleman. The younger gentleman smiled, not appearing to be insulted by Miss Timms snobbery.

  The next day Miss Timms visited Rush Park. She purposely strolled around the grounds in hopes to find her good friend, Mr. Fenny. She hoped Gilbert would give her a tour of the grounds. It didn’t take her long to find Gilbert caring for Barnhart in his barn.

  “Good afternoon my good friend.” Miss Timms greeted Gilbert.

  Gilbert turned, “Miss Timms,” he greeted her with excitement, “I wondered when you might show up. It is nice to see you again.”

  “You made my day.” She said “I was afraid you wouldn’t like to see me after our last meeting. I promise not to be evil or evil like.”

  “I was wrong to refer to you as possibly being evil.”

  Miss Timms chuckled, “I will admit, I gave you that impression.”

  “Forget it,” he said, “what is it that brings you here today?”

  “I was hoping I could get a tour of the racing facilities here, so I may share it with our readers.” Miss Timms smiled in hopes to get a personal tour.

  “Let me finish up with Barnhart, and I will show you around.” Gilbert said.

  Once Gilbert finished up caring for Barnhart, they walked together as Gilbert showed her Rush Park in the same manner he had shown Clara. He explained how the track was unique compared to other tracks. She knew very well the differences in the track, but allowed him to continue. She new being a good listener was the key to getting what she wanted.

  Miss Timms asked Gilbert, “How did Mr. Williams manage with the tax problem on the Axtell sale?”

  “You would have to ask him.” He said as he nodded toward Mr. Williams who was feeding Anna Dickinson some carrots and brushing her a few stalls down from them.

  She politely said, “Thank you,” and walked toward Mr. Williams. “Mr. Williams,” she called to him.<
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  He showed no emotion to her presence as she approached. He was a gentleman who had grown fond, yet wary, of this female reporter. “Good afternoon, Miss Timms. What can I do for you?”

  “I was wondering how you came out with the Axtell sales tax fiasco.”

  “I paid the taxes that were set by their laws,” he plainly answered with a smile.

  “So, you paid the taxes for a horse worth $500.”

  Mr. Williams took a deep breath and politely answered. “That was the maximum taxable amount on a horse sold in Indiana, as set by the county tax code in Terre Haute, where the sale took place.”

  “The Farmers Alliance didn’t think it was fair.”

  “I can’t help that. I am a law-abiding citizen, and I have to pay the taxes as ordered by those laws.” Mr. Williams was annoyed by Miss Timms inquisitive attitude. “They tried to change the law, ‘after’, the sale of Axtell took place.”

  “I don’t doubt that. I find you are a very rare breed of breeder. May I say I must ask these questions, so I can portray the real Mr. Williams to my readers.” She looked at him intently, “There will be no doubt in the minds of my readers, that you are a man of great integrity. In other words, I am glad things turned out well for you.”

  Mr. Williams reflected on her words for a moment, then spoke. “Thank you. Do you have any other questions?”

  “Yes I do,” she said, “Why did you sell Axtell? Don’t you believe he could lower his time further and wouldn’t you benefit from his fees?”

  Mr. Williams did not answer right away, “Look around you.”

  “I think I see, but could you tell me in your own words, what you feel is going on here?” She asked with great desire to hear the answer.

  Mr. Williams could see it in her eyes and solemn look on her face. He put down the brush and escorted her outside the barn. “Axtell is but one horse. A great horse, but just the same, a horse. Money is just paper.” He looked around and gestured with his hand to the hundreds of people at the track before the races. “This city has a much deeper soul than it did six months ago or even six days ago. The racing industry coming here for this meeting, is something that promote’s unity and escape from hard living for spectators and workers alike.” He pointed to the many establishments preparing meals for mass of people. “The people of this town have worked hard to get ready to host the many people who are going to attend the races. They are working together, and they are happy doing it. Old enemies and rivals have bonded together to assist each other so we can make a positive impression on the world. This week we host many people who will see this and maybe go back to their own communities and work together to accomplish something good for humanity. It doesn’t have to be in racing; it could be anything.” He smiled, Miss Timms smiled as well, she did not expect this type of an answer. “But maybe something else, like a different sporting event, circus, zoo, orphanage or a charitable cause.”

  She took a moment to reflect upon what he said. “I do understand,” she responded, “Your money has been put to good use. I hope it can be sustained.”

  “It can be sustained with a little luck,” he smiled.

  She asked, “Did you find it interesting about Leland Stanford proving his theory that a horse is completely off the ground for a fraction of a second when in a full trot? He proved it with a series of camera pictures, with the help of a San Francisco photographer by the name of Muybridge. He was able to show the pictures in rapid succession to give it a moving picture illusion.”

  “I find it a very interesting discovery,” he replied, then twisted his head in thought, “And I have been trying to figure out if this technology could help a horse trot faster. It could be benefit in the study of a horse gait. But this discovery could benefit us in many other ways.”

  Miss Timms reasoned, “But the amount of time off the ground would be minimal, and the fact the horses hoof needs to be on the ground to propel the horse. Just as rowing a boat doesn’t make the boat go faster when the oar is out of the water.”

  Mr. Williams looked at her blankly before collecting his thoughts, “Interesting thought, but I was thinking of the moving picture idea being a great benefit.”

  “I see,” she said. Then changed the subject, “How is Allerton?”

  “He is fine, he has been racing this year very well.”

  “Can he race to his full potential?”

  “He will make an appearance, and when he does, we will all know how he is.” Mr. Williams knew how he was, but was not going to tell a nosy reporter.

  They continued to talk for several minutes before Miss Timms left him. She waved at Gilbert one last time and hitched on to another owner she knew.

  Clara was at the track to help Mrs. Burris set up the concession booth under the grandstands, had noticed Gilbert was walking with Miss Timms. She was sickened to see the attractive older woman walking with Gilbert. She continued her duties with very little enthusiasm. She thought he may be getting back at her for going to a dance with Johnny.

  Mrs. Burris asked, “You’re shaking my dear, are you all right?”

  “I’m fine, really.” The rest of the night went by torturously slow for Clara. She needed to talk to someone.

  When Clara was finished with her work at Rush Park, she had planned to meet with Gilbert, but she slipped away back to town to avoid him. There was a plan that if they might be discovered, they would avoid contact. So when Gilbert saw Clara leave for town, he was not concerned.

  Clara walked home and as soon as she entered the house, her aunt Gretchen could tell that something was bothering her. “Are you all right, dear?”

  “Yes, I am fine, just tired,” she said lazily satisfying Gretchen from pursuing the matter. Eva, who happened to be in the kitchen at the time, was not convinced. Clara went on upstairs to her room. Gretchen joined her husband on the front porch swing.

  Eva decided to look in on Clara, after finishing her kitchen duties. She knocked lightly on the door, then listened for a response. There was no response so she knocked again slightly harder and softly said, “Miss Clara.”

  She heard a faint voice, “Who is it?”

  “It’s me, Eva.”

  “Oh,” Clara’s muffled faint voice responded, “come in Eva.”

  Eva opened the door and looked around the room. She did not see Clara anywhere in the room, “Miss?”

  “Here, in the window.” Eva looked to the window and saw Clara peering in. She was sitting on the roof of the front porch.

  “Needin’ some fresh air are we?” Eva asked.

  “Yes,” Clara admitted mournfully. “Come join me if you like.”

  “Thank you,” Eva said, “all right.” Eva started to go through the window. She was halfway out when she found herself awkwardly trying to get her leg up onto the window sill. “Me bein’ a short pudgy woman may need missy’s ’elp.” She tried the other leg and was unable to achieve getting out the window.

  “Want me to come inside?” Clara asked.

  “No miss,” she said, “But if ya could give me a pull.” Clara reached over and helped to pull the little pudgy Eva out the window. She nearly began to roll down the slope of the roof when Clara grabbed her. After the uncouth extraction from the window, she regained her composure and pulled her skirt down over her ankles. She leaned her back up against the wall of the house and said. “I was hopin’ to speak to ya, miss.”

  Clara unenthusiastically said, “Really, what about?”

  “It’s about me Mr. Jaworsky.” She explained, “typical man that ’e is, doesn’t seem to want to be seen with me like ’e use ta.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “We use ta go ta the opera ’ouse twice a month. We use ta walk ’round town together or take a picnic to the park or a private place we ’ave.” Eva shook her head, “We don’t do any of that no more.”

  �
��Things are a bit busy around here lately, maybe he’s just too busy.”

  “No, ’e doesn’t go out much. ’E won’t have me over to ’is place very often.”

  Clara thought for a moment then said, “Can you think of anything that may be the reason for the change?”

  “I’d say it’s ’is new secretary,” Eva explained. “’E’s taken a liken to ’er.”

  “Bastard,” Clara said strongly in agreement.

  Eva’s eyes widened at Clara’s vulgar language. She had never heard Clara mutter a nasty word like that before, “Miss.”

  “It is a good description,” Clara reasoned, “It’s true.”

  “What does ya’ think I should do?”

  Clara squeezed up her face and nodded confidently, “Confront him about it.”

  “I think I will,” Eva responded. “I am so glad I can talk to you. Can we talk anytime we ’ave a problem?”

  “Sure,” Clara said. Eva started to get up and crawl back through the window. Clara grabbed her arm to stop her from leaving. “Please don’t go.”

  Eva stopped her exodus and slowly sat back down on the roof. “I would love to stay miss, but the roof is ’ard on me backside.”

  “Oh, here,” Clara said joyfully as she got up to reveal a bed pillow she had been sitting on. “I think both of us can fit on this.” They crunched close together on the pillow.

  “Thank ya miss. This is very comfortable.”

  There was a pause before Clara spoke, “Eva,” she said seriously, “You and Mr. Jawarski have gone out three times this week. I actually saw you two go into King’s Hall two nights ago.” Clara looked over to Eva directly. “Why are you lying to me about the two of you?” Eva looked horrified by the accusation.

  She nearly burst out with tears when she said, “I’m sorry miss. I only wanted to gain your confidence so ya will feel free to tell me what is botherin’ ya.”