Evening star., 1946-05-02

neck, and can i
do as I please
without saying
Thank you,
sirl "That's Henry MeLemore.
mighty nice Of you, sir" Anything
can do for you, sir?" or, under my
breath, You're a jerk, sir"
You get what mean, I hope.
In case you don't, I'll make it COM
pletely clear by saying that the last
two or three Derbys were run while
I was in a position that obliged me
to listen to them over the short
wave and the backs of gentlemen
by the act Of Congress" who, I
hope, have now returned to a style
OF living to which the Army was
rapidly getting them unaccustomed.
If there Is anything worse than
having to stand up and worry about
chair for temporary major when
the field is in the backstretch. you
can get bet out of me. And if
this be treason. well, seven or eight
million of us former GIs will hang
together. No, as a matter of fact,
I don't think they'd go so far as to
hang us. After all, the papers re-
corded just the other day that the
Japs, who were found guilty of be-
heading two American pilots, got off
with a light prison sentences.
Just as Big as Life.
But let's talk Of pleasant memo
ries, such as the memory of that
night when Ted Husing, Jimmy Do
Ian and I, walked into a 12th-floor
room of a Louisville hotel and saw
a pony sitting in chair drinking
a coke. The pony was there, just
as big as life. with his front feet
on the arms of the chair, and with
his right foot holding a glass. We
never asked how he got there, and
what his name was. We were afraid
to. But We always suspected that
Dick Andrade and Buddy Fogelson
had something to do with it.
And let us talk, too, of that quiet
little session in Mr.. Matt Winn's
office, an hour or so after the run
ming OF the Derby. Bill Corum took
me there the first time. There, in
the quiet workroom of the man who
made the Derby the No. l sports
event Of the country, and the only
man who has seen all the Derby
winners cross the finish line, we'd
toast the winner with nip Of Bour-
bon. Mr.. Winn would bring the
bottle from the bottom drawer of
his ancient rolltop desk. Bourbon
so old that 1t was Of voting age
when the Pyramids were half
finished, and so smooth that 1t
made a man wish the race had
ended in dead heat among all of
the Is or is horses, thus necessitat-
Ing toast for every thoroughbred.
The Kentucky Colonels' annual
dinner. I'll never forget the last
one. After three hours of, fun q
half-dozen of us decided to slip
away for a little rest, and, just as
we decided to leave the vast banquet
hall, the lights went out. Now's
the time, we said. So, we started
swinging up the aisles toward the
exit practically on all fours, so no
one. would notice us. AS we were
hallway to the doors-three hus-
bands and three wives-the lights
went on twice as bright as they
were before. Trumpets blew. Drums
rufled and riffied. A spotlight
caught us, swinging along like apes.
Entansled With Walters.
What had happened was this:
They were bringing in the mint
Juleps. Drumming them in. Walters
with mint juleps stumbled over us.
We became entangled in the wait
ers' legs. I am afraid that since
that moment my commission as a
Kentucky Colonel, granted by the
then Governor of the Kentucky
Commonwealth, Happy" Chandler,
has never been in good standing.
I could go on forever. There was
the night Gene Fowler, a great
newspaperman and a greater nov
elist, and Leo McCarey, the Oscar
director, played the trombone and
the clarinet in band that, so help
me, was rendering Hawaiian music
via the telephone to-of all people
people in Hawaii. The man who
was paying for the band and the
telephone bill said he wanted to
be the first man to send Hawaiian
music from Louisville.
There was the morning when two
OF us neWspapermen, tired of hear
ing how fatiguing it was for a horse
to run the Derby distance of a mile
and a quarter, went to Churchill
Downs shortly after daybreak and.
starting from the gate, went the
full route. Since then I have never
been sorry for a three-year -old
horse that had to go that far. If
two newspapermen, in their thir-
ties, could make it, why fret about
three-year-old horse?
I have the winner of the Derby.
I would like to give you the name
right now, but you'll have to wait
until tomorrow. ALI I can say is
that my tip came from a man so
close to the horses that he often
serves as stand-in for Man O. War
when that great thoroughbred is
having his picture painted.
Be sure to get tomorrow's edition,
Well all be rich.
(DiStributed nv McNouobt cvrd,,.4> va
All NlH HlAllH