Forty years ago, and my three Derby buddies are still my closest friends

I've been running some old stuff lately, and this May 1988 column from my Colorado days is actually about the 1976 Kentucky Derby, the only time I was actually there in person for the Run for the Roses. My favorite Dan Fogelberg song also, and it's worth mentioning that the other three guys on the trip are still friends of mine. So Gary Oleson, Bill Madden and Mick Curran, this memory is for you.



It was 1976. Jimmy Carter was wandering across the country telling people he was running for president and he would never lie to them. Disco was rearing its ugly head and the Big Red Machine was on its way to 108 victories and a 4-0 sweep in the World Series.


And two friends -- guys who had known each other for a real long time -- decided they wanted to go to the Kentucky Derby.

Neither had made cross-country pilgrimages before. Neither had been south to Fort Lauderdale for spring break, the annual rite of passage for East Coast youth. Both were horse-racing fans, though, and the 600-mile trip from Washington, D.C., to Louisville for a four-day weekend seemed like a real interesting way to spend the first weekend in May.

The two invited two other friends to go along. A hotel room -- at ridiculously inflated rates for 1976 -- was reserved, and it was decided that transportation would be provided by my 1973 Camaro.

General Motors hadn't downsized the Camaro yet, but even with its V-8, 350 cubic inch engine, it still wasn't a car designed to take four grown men 600 miles. Even for close friends, close quarters can become irritating on what was at the time a 12-hour trip.

Run for the Roses, 1976

The journey west was an all-nighter that started Wednesday at 10 p.m., going through Maryland, Pennsylvania and Ohio in the cool night air. The sun was coming up when they passed through Cincinnati and crossed into Kentucky. They survived the trip west and made it to the downtown Louisville Holiday Inn, where they prepared to spend three nights in a room meant for two people.

By Sunday they would know more than they ever wanted to know about each other -- who snored, who talked in his sleep, who liked to stay up until all hours reading or watching late-night television in the pre-Letterman era.

They bought racing forms and tip sheets to study the field. They bought tacky mint julep glasses and took pictures of each other outside the fabled Churchill Downs race track.

The Derby looked like a classic matchup, with speed horse Bold Forbes and stretch-runner Honest Pleasure the heavy favorites. Some fans thought a third horse, Elocutionist, might sneak in and win, but most of the money was being bet on the two favorites.

The four friends had differing opinions. Two of them were split between the favorites, while the other two decided to bet on Elocutionist. All four were set to plunge -- $2 tickets.

None of us were there to make money. On the first weekend in May, Louisville was the place to be for socializing. Three of the four were still single. They went bar-hopping every night. I had been married for a year. I stayed in the hotel room and read detective novels.

No one had tickets to the race. The Derby had been sold out for months, so the plan was to become part of the throng in the infield. Part of the Frisbee games, the barbecues and sunbathing.

"I went to the Kentucky Derby and never saw a horse," read one of the T-shirts the vendors were pushing. It wouldn't have been difficult. There were 80,000 people in the infield and a lot of them were interesting in pursuits other than equine.

Still, as post time approached for the 102nd running of the Derby, the mood changed. When the band played "My Old Kentucky Home," there were a few tears in the eyes of four guys who had never been in Kentucky before.

Bold
 Forbes (2)

Certain events are so ingrained in our national fabric that they have long since transcended the actual athletic competition. They've become American traditions. The Masters is one of those, the Indianapolis 500 another. And of course, the Kentucky Derby is a third.

If you have watched a lot of Derbies, you may remember 1976. It was the one where, just after the start, some idiot threw a smoke bomb out on the track. With the horses heading for the first turn at the other end of the track, a Kentucky state trooper ran onto the track and grabbed it. He burned his hands carrying it off, but hero status came along with the pain.

If the bomb hadn't been removed, it would have been nearly impossible to clear the smoke before the horses returned. It's no exaggeration to say that there could have been tragic consequences.

As it turned out, Bold Forbes broke to the front early and ran away with the race.Only one of the four friends cashed his ticket. He hadn't bet to win, either. His Show ticket paid $2.10 for his $2 investment.

They partied again on Saturday night and left for home Sunday morning. The return journey seemed a lot longer. Soon after that, the four headed in different directions. One went to Southern California for graduate school, another to Miami for a job. One stayed in the D.C. area, and I went overseas to spend two years with my wife in Vienna, Austria.

The four of them never got together as a group again, but one thing is certain. When the first weekend in May rolls around, when they sit in front of their television sets and listen as the band strikes up "My Old Kentucky Home," they remember.

Some memories you never forget.

***

A version of this originally appeared in the May 6, 1988, edition of the Greeley (Colo.) Tribune.