Every time I look up a Derby reference (Willie Shoemaker, this time) I slip into an online rabbit warren, consuming hours. The Kentucky Derby is a magic land as far as I’m concerned but I’ve never been there, and don’t want to go. I prefer seeing it through Hunter’s and Ralph’s eyes, dilated as they were by mint juleps and rocket fuel on that classic 1970 aberrant romp through Louisville. The Derby could never live up to that, I’m afraid. If you’re not familiar with that, here’s a link.

But the reason I looked up Shoemaker was a reference in a Sam Shepard book to Swaps, the 1955 Derby winner, and his unorthodox Mormon owner, Rex Ellsworth, and trainer, Mesh Tenney. These guys were from the California tules and, I was told, mocked by the Derby establishment as cowboy outsiders. Be careful who you mock. They might kick dirt in your face as they blast by you in the furlongs. Swaps’ story is a pretty good one, Horse of the Year, he overcame lots of injuries and broke records. Lifetime earnings, about a million. Pretty good back then, especially for a horse nicknamed The California Cripple.

But Omaha horses are my subject for now. The first that comes to mind is Salty Blue, a horse a friend and his father bought at a claiming race at Aksarben, a race track now gone, plowed under for campus housing at the University of Nebraska at Omaha. It’s all I remember about him; his name. And the fact he reportedly cost $600. That’s a pittance for a dream. Did The Derby ever cross their minds? Does the lottery ever cross yours? I did a search for old Salty Blue. Results: nothing. Next best thing, the co-owner. Yes, he popped up, still alive and kicking. I got the price wrong, it was a great deal more than that and Terry, the friend of long ago, said he had nothing to do with it. But he recalled Salty Blue. We had a good conversation, some chuckles, and some sadness at others no longer whinnying with our herd from long ago.

I spent a season handicapping horses at Aksarben. I worked outdoors for a paving company figuring concrete yield among other duties which included accounts payable for Readymix Concrete and snow removal in winter. Summers were loose. I went to the track daily and bet on the first race; I’d pick one horse and bet it in all money categories, win, place, show. Six bucks total. If I lost, I’d leave. If I won, I’d put the money on the next race. I knew the horses’ mud capabilities, past owners, jockeys, win history, etc. I kept spreadsheets full of tiny handwritten info. At season’s end, with all the work I’d devoted to this pastime, I was twelve dollars ahead. End of that dumb story.

The other “Omaha horse” was sired by Native Dancer and cost Nebraska businessman Mike Ford some $43,000, The story was he’d given his buyer permission to spend $100,000 or more; he wanted a winner. He felt 43K was not enough, and was somewhat disappointed. That’s the story I got back then, but I wasn’t exactly a Derby insider. I’d met Mr. Ford through my inlaws who lived a block or so from him and his wife, Ronnie. Nice people. An aside; I skiid in Aspen that year and Ford was there with a movie camera. He shot some footage of me skiing. I never got to see it so I’ll describe it in my mind’s eye: spectacular. Maybe. Maybe not.

Anyway, that horse was Kauai King. (Kauai was pronounced to rhyme with Hawaii) (reminds me: a couple was flying to Hawaii, and asked a fellow passenger how it was pronounced, Hawaii or Havaii? He says “Havaii.” They say thanks. He says, “You’re Velcome.”) Kauai King was some fine horse any which way you say it. He won the first two legs of the triple crown. So I actually knew a Kentucky Derby, Preakness owner/winner. Here’s footage of his Derby win, Donald Brumfield up.

He was syndicated for a record $2,250,000. Then forgotten, after some lackluster performance. And I mean forgotten. Nobody even asks about him at Sagamore Farms where he was foaled and where visitors still bring flowers to place on Native Dancer’s grave. Kauai Who? Sad for a horse that was the first horse in nearly twenty years to lead the field all the way at the Kentucky Derby. But they say that’s the way it can be for sires who never produced a big winner or two.

But I remember him. And the day he won The Big One. I wrote Mr. Ford a congratulatory note and received a nice answer in reply plus a rolled portrait of Kauai King in a tube, a pencil drawing print that I had framed. It was lost years ago in one of many moves. R.I.P. Kauai King. He was part of my heyday. I think I made a pun. Sometimes I laugh myself hoarse.