by Bob Heyden

Stan Bergstein was born on June 19, 1924 and died on Nov. 2, 2011 at age 87. He and his beloved wife June had 60 years and 4 days together until she died in 2010.

Nobody ever had a bigger influence on the sport of harness racing than Stan.

The day he died in 2011, I made a promise to myself that I would remember and remind others of the huge impact this man had not only on me but a parade of others. It is the least I could do for a man who spent eight decades plus manning the bulldozer to make the sport seen and heard.

The 1920s saw the birth of not only Stan, but Billy Haughton (11/2/23) and Stanley Dancer (7/25/27) as well as another gift to the world, the Hambletonian in 1926. Those four additions to the sport you could argue did more than any other group at any other time. A century later all are still celebrated.

Stan all but invented the ‘claiming’ race as we know it today. He was the one who recommended to Dancer to buy Su Mac Lad in the late 1950s. Dancer did and ‘Sumie’ retired on Sept. 30 1965 as the richest trotter who ever lived.

Stan started the ‘experimentals’ in 1965 rating the sophomores on both gaits in predicted order of speed.

He championed television coverage whenever and wherever he could. He manned the microphone for many of the biggest races; most notably the Hambletonian at DuQuoin. As well as the mic at sales as a seasoned auctioneer and pedigree reader.

He was most instrumental in getting “Racing from Yonkers/Roosevelt “ on the superstation WOR from 1974-86, thus introducing thousands and thousands of newbies to the sport. Stan was a true visionary, the kind who actually facilitated change, who urged upgrades, who made notables into stars, all the while shunning the spotlight.

The World Driving Championship that debuted in 1970 was his brainchild.

He was chief executive officer of Harness Tracks of America, but he was also Stan “The Fan” and Stan “The Man.” Baseball’s Stan “The Man” Musial retired in 1963 while ours was just getting started.

It’s impossible for me to say the name Stan Bergstein without smiling and recalling almost too many memories. Stan was two parts raconteur and one part rascal. He was the high school principal and your guidance counselor. He was an adventurer, an advisor, an advocate and an art-lover. Oh, how he loved art. He was part showman but never a showoff.

He commanded respect, expected honesty, and saw to it to reward dedication and hard work any way he could. He was a mentor and a mensch. He wore oh-so-many hats while juggling oh-so-many balls in the air at the same time.

He was diminutive in stature but every single ounce was sincere and real. He was the voice of harness racing and its conscience. If harness racing had its own Jeopardy, Stan would be just as comfortable asking as he would answering. He outworked those 20, 30, 40 years younger and was steadfast in his 24/7 positivity.

He did not want you to walk in his shadow. Instead, he preferred you create your own with no need at all to reference his name at the bottom of any page.

He’d downplay his blue ribbons because he was far too busy hoisting up yours.

He was forever championing the little guy; Google Jodevin mid-1970s when you get a chance.

Stan was the guy out front distributing playbills prior to hustling backstage to help out. You had to look hard during the standing ovation, where 5-foot-something Stan was somewhere behind the stars. When asked once why he seemed to avoid the highest pedestal he remarked, “My legs don’t reach that far.”

Stan was color blind. If his early years working with the Harlem Globetrotters wasn’t proof enough, his promotion of all African Americans in the sport any time he could was evident. Lew Williams comes immediately to mind.

Stan did something very few did, or can do, he remained on top of his game to the end. Stan was stuck at the dock the day the “Ship of Irrelevance” sailed.

With Stan you always got the feeling he was in your corner. No, forget that, he was firmly with you. His was a never-ending effort to prop up harness racing and to tell our thoroughbred counterparts “Hey, we are here too!”

When your group leader is 100 per cent committed and into it, it tends to rub off.

Ever want to get on Stan’s bad side? You could if you were a cheat, a corner-cutter, a drug user, an inappropriate self-promoter, or a purposeful disruptor. He might have missed his calling as a Tom Dewey-like prosecutor. Thankfully many of those skills were on display when Stan took you to task, no doubt preferring the woodshed.

Here are a couple of Stan memories that stand out to me.

1. The 1986 Meadowlands Pace press conference was on July 15th. Stan, thank goodness, was hosting in Pegasus on the top floor at The Meadowlands. Billy Haughton had just passed away that morning from injuries 12 days prior at Yonkers. I can’t tell you how much we needed Stan there at that moment.

2. In the mid-to-late ‘80s in The Meadowlands press box, Stan was sitting right next to a, shall we say, “Gum-Flapper Supreme.” We watched from a distance, two races worth easy. Neither had budged even after 30 or 35 minutes had gone by. After it disbanded, I walked over and told Stan, “You are a lot braver soul than I.” Stan then pointed to his right ear and told us he saw no reason at all to have flipped his hearing aid on.

When Stan passed away as we embarked on the Harrisburg sale of 2011, I slowly began to notice that nobody there was talking about replacing Stan, or the ‘next Stan.’ Nothing like that at all. Stan was not unlike the recent eclipse; they don’t come around very often.

Finally, Stan was a welcoming presence to me 40 plus years ago.

When I mentioned to a variety of people on several continents it was Stan’s 100th birthday on June 19, nobody said “Who?” Nobody had any problem recalling the helping hand he had extended their way. There was not even a hint of “Out of sight, out of mind.”

His legacy indeed lives on in so many ways and I strongly suspect that won’t be changing anytime soon.