by Murray Brown

In a conversation the other day, Peter Blood brought up the fact that the motto of the USTA used to be “Harness racing, America’s fastest growing sport.” Not only was that the motto of our governing body, but it was undoubtedly true at the time. One might be entitled to ask what has happened to us since those halcyon days?

Blood was primarily addressing the fact that harness racing in his home state of Florida is no more.

You began racing at Pompano from its inception. What was the path that led you there?

“I was born in Brooklyn. At the age of 5, my dad picked up and moved our family to the great state of Maine, then as it is now, a place that has been a breeding place for numerous exceptional horsemen. While there, I would describe myself as being mostly a musician. I played guitar and bass mostly at clubs. I suppose my claim to fame was being part of a small band that once opened for a guy named Jimi Hendrix in Lewiston. My dad was a devoted horse player. It was no surprise that he began taking me along when he visited the racetrack. My part in actively being involved in the sport came about when two friends and myself bought a cheap claimer for $750. We did alright with it, but just alright. I decided to go to Florida and try to get involved in harness racing full time. I had no experience, but I didn’t lack in self-confidence or bulls – – -.”

So, you ended up in Florida. What happened next?

“I got a job with Charlie Connors, the father of well-known New York horseman Chuck Connors. Charlie was the first who allowed me to jog a horse for him. I then got a job with the Bruce Nickells Stable. Lupe Morales was Bruce’s number one man. I distinctly remember him telling me, ‘You don’t know s – – -.’ At that time, he was probably right. I went to work for Fred Bradbury. Fred didn’t have many in his stable, but they were all decent to very good. I took care of a good Spectator filly named Sweet Freight who was owned by Arthur Brown’s ABC Freight Forwarding Stable. She was the third highest earning 3-year-old trotting filly that year.

“In the interim, I went back to Maine, but not for long. I came back to Florida where I went to work for Billy Haughton. I worked there for two years. Billy Haughton is, in my opinion, the greatest horseman ever. It isn’t even close. What he didn’t know about a horse isn’t worth knowing. After two years with Haughton, I thought it was time that I went out on my own. I started a small stable composed mostly of claimers.

“It was at about this time where I became involved in the Florida Standardbred Breeders and Owners Association (FSBOA), a group of which I am still a member. Looking back at my time as a director, I must confess that I probably did a poor job. I said all along, but was unable to change the minds of the powers that were [in charge], that we were damned foolish to represent ourselves at the bargaining table. We had neither the experience, nor the ability to go against the hired guns that the casino people had. We were horsemen, not lawyers nor lobbyists. We found ourselves in a war where the opposition had a well-trained army at their disposal. The casinos had an arsenal. We were armed with BB guns. The result, of course, is that there is no longer harness racing in Florida. It’s quite possible that it would have been the same even if we had put up a better fight, but I don’t claim to know.”

From that time forward you decided to train a stable composed entirely of stakes horses. Why?

“I suppose it was both my good and not so good fortune to meet a man named Bob Rosenheim. The good was that Mr. Rosenheim had almost unlimited resources and was willing to spend whatever it took to achieve his goals. The bad, and there was lots of bad, was that he was almost completely devoid of class. When you were with him, there were lots of unexpected things he could unleash, almost always resulting in embarrassing behavior. Through the three years I was with him, we did pretty well, but only on the racetrack. One day, he accused me of lying to him. I don’t lie to anyone. I told him to take his job and shove it where the sun doesn’t shine.”

Would you say your relationship with Rick Berks has been diametrically opposed to what you experienced with Rosenheim?

“Yes, indeed. We have been together for 33 years. He has been a client, a partner, and most important of all, a dear friend for all of that time. I’m now not much more than a dollar a year man, going around the track for Bill Deters at Sunshine Meadows with regard to actually working with the horses. I still help Rick in determining the bookings for his broodmare band that now numbers around a dozen. I have my computer hooked up to the stalls of his mares as they go through the next stage of their lives at his farm in Kentucky. It has been an association on which I place great value.”

We see you most Saturday mornings at Sunshine Meadows jogging horses that are being trained by Bill Deters. Who are they?

“One is the New York Sires Stakes champion Boston Rocks, a colt that we bred, had raised and raced. We also have a Summa Cum Laude colt that we stepped out of our normal box to buy. He brought $95,000. Right now, I consider him a bargain at that price. There is also Red Blooded, a 3-year-old Boston Red Rocks that is entirely owned by Rick.”

What is it that those reading this column might not know about you?

“In addition to being a lifetime horseman, I am also a licensed pilot as well as a licensed nautical pilot. I’m also a judge licensed by the USTA and the State of Florida. I’m also extremely proud of being a member of both the Florida and New England Halls of Fame.”