Sometimes the more things change, the more they stay that way—changed.
The self-named Assembled now only has three breathing members. Johnny M. passed away last year on Belmont Day. Bobby G., who will be 90 in August, hates Aqueduct more than he likes racing. He passed on the last visit, holding about for Belmont in September or October.
Although Johnny M was 84 when he passed away—and there are those who will tell you he didn't get cheated—I was always projecting our relationship somehow continuing with me reading him the Racing Form in an assisted living setting. In my mind, he wasn't going to pass away. But life is not eternal; rest is.
Thus, it was left to José and I to say good-bye. We are the babies of the group. José was there a little ahead of me, sitting where we usually rendezvous on the second floor, adjacent to the empty boxes. José is easy to spot, because who else at the track is sitting there handicapping while clutching 4 different colored highlighters marking up a Racing Form?
People will tell you they'll miss the place. No one who has any history with NYRA racing and Aqueduct over the last few decades will not miss what Aqueduct has become, a tiny refuge where the freely admitted patrons have been squeezed into a section of the first and second floors to take in the odors of smoking and marijuana outside. To say the place stinks, is to be literal. You can't look back nearly 60 years and expect nothing to change.
Yesterday was my final appearance at Aqueduct. There were actually people around José and I who spoke English. And believe it or not, someone brought a fucking, yapping Maltese dog they must have smuggled in with a tote bag. There is no visible security at Aqueduct other than a uniformed guy stationed at the foot of the escalator when you come in.
The dog eventually let out so much little dog yapping that some people started complaining. Someone was going to sing "Who Lets the Dogs Out?" Another was yelling the dog was interrupting their handicapping. Eventually, the dog and whoever brought it seemed to disappear. There was going to be an insurrection. The metaphor was complete. The place has gone to the dogs.
There is supposed to be no smoking, but that is only a sign, as the cigarette butts and smell attest to. The place is clean, the floors are polished, but a few seats still have seagull or pigeon poop residue on them. You would think they might clean that, but no, the seats (still free with backs) needed to be wiped clean.
Want to hear the call of the race? Well, tune into television. The audio is barely distinguishable. Unless you're watching through binoculars, or looking at the infield video board, you don't even know "they're off." It's almost funny tracking the race with binoculars and not hearing an announcer. The terrible audio is nothing new. It was like that last year.
But the sight lines at Aqueduct have long been the best in racing. At Belmont (at least the one they replaced) the stands were fully parallel to the track, creating a tough view when they entered the stretch. Even the overly talkative wag Andy Serling has commented on the great sight lines. We'll see if the new Belmont took an improved sight line into consideration into the design. (Why do I doubt it?)
Nostalgia? Sure. Aqueduct is where I went some weekdays when I called in "sick." I remember one in particular, when the New York Rangers beat the Toronto Maple Leafs in overtime in Toronto on April 15, 1971 to advance to the next Stanley Cup round after a goal by Bob Nevin in overtime.
I watched the game at home, and was in such a celebratory mood after staying up drinking beer by myself, that I called in the next day and headed to the track. There I distinctly remember being on line to bet on the 4th floor! and seeing a few guys from the New Haven Blades, a Ranger farm team, wearing their team jackets and displaying more than a few scars on their faces. The place was crowded. It was a Friday.
Aqueduct is where my friend Dave and I were with our mentor, Les, "Mr. Pace" and saw Secretariat win his second race at 6f on July 15, 1972, ridden by a five-pound bug jockey Ben Feliciano. It was Feliciano's second time riding Secretariat, who finished out-of-money 4th in his first start—the only out-of-money finish in a 21 race career. Ron Turcotte rode Secretariat every race until his last race, a turf Invitational in Woodbine when he was ridden by Eddie Maple. Turcotte was under a suspension at the time.
Not having a car was no obstacle to getting to the track living in Flushing, On Main Street, in front of the St. George Episcopal church was a private bus company, Walter's Transit, that got you to Aqueduct or Belmont for maybe $1.50. Numerous bus companies from all over NYC transported people to the tracks. The parking lot looked like the Port Authority.
There was the time Johnny M. and I were at the track on February 11, 1983, sucking down beers at the bar at Equestris, oblivious to the worsening conditions outside. A blizzard was in the making, and they closed the track and gave us rain checks for free admission next time. I saved the program and framed the 5th race entries—the race that was never run.
John and I were a little late getting down to the buses, and our Flushing bus was pulling out. The weather was brutal. Fourteen inches were eventually dumped in that storm. I remember running as hard as I could to catch up to the bus and pounded on the door to get the driver to stop. I really don't know what might have happened if we hadn't caught that bus.
We could of course started a journey on the subway. One of the charms of Aqueduct, being in Queens, and therefore NYC, is that you could get there by subway. Still can. The A train, the longest route in the system, would get you to a stop right outside the track.
When racing was actually attended by crowds, NYC Transit created the "Subway Special," a subway train that left a special portion of the Times Square station that, for $1.50 token— a special large token— that took you to the train making only one stop in downtown Brooklyn, at Hoyt-Schermerhorn Street.
NYC Transit used old, out of service cars. These cars went back to the 60s and before. They had ceiling fans and rattan seats. The conductor had to straddle between cars outside to open and close the doors. He did not operate from a small enclosure. When my friend Dave and I came down the stairs there was a huge metal horseshoe at the base that said "Good Luck." Guys would get on the train and start smoking, no less. There was a return trip Subway Special as well.
When the train reached Aqueduct, there is documentary-type film of the crowds leaving the train and going down the ramp to get to the track. If the train was late, or betting on the Daily Double was in jeopardy, guys would be flying off the ramp to get in and get their bets down. In that era, the ONLY exotic bet was a Daily Double—and only one Daily Double, not like the rolling Doubles of today and all the other horizontal bets there—and the opportunity to bet on it closed 10 minutes before the first race, which was 1:30. The track needed that ten minutes to process the bets.
The story at the time was someone joking that the mail trucks, UPS, and other commercial tracks left the parking lot when the drivers didn't hit the first race, and therefore weren't "live" for the double. Our friend Les purposely didn't get to the track until he was assured of missing the Double. He was always afraid of blowing the wad on missed double bets. The Daily Double was the first bet I made in 1968, and I hit it "cold," no crisscrossing. Tell me I wasn't hooked.
In 1977 my wife and I were in Toronto. Woodbine wasn't open, but Greenwood was. The track is now long gone, but an aspect of the track was that it was the last track serviced by a trolley. I remember seeing the trolley after we left. We had a driven there with a rental car.
I also distinctly remember looking at the infield board. In those days, race track infield boards displayed the amount of Win, Place and Show money bet on each entrant. I got the biggest kick out of noticing that minutes before post time there were still horses that had absolutely no money bet on them to show. 0 was posted by the bulb lite board.
There used to be a taboo against Sunday racing. In fact, there used to be a taboo against Sunday shopping. Hard to believe, but department stores in NYC were closed on Sundays. No racing either. This was the case even into the early 70s, which to me is really not that long ago, but surely predates the birth of others who now have their eyes on their 401-K retirement balances.
Delaware Park in Stanton, Delaware had no such restriction. There was Sunday racing. So, my wife and I and another couple took a trip there to play the races one Sunday. I doubt I even have a program, or a losing ticket as a souvenir, and I took no pictures, but the place was charming.
I have no memory of how I, or any of others did. I do remember the paddock area was a delight, with the jockeys in what I remember to be a sort of house with a porch where they got dressed. They would hang out on the porch waiting for the call to post. It was extremely colorful and I've always wanted to go back. Oddly enough, the couple we went with now have retired to another part of Delaware. But Delaware is not big, and a dovetailed trip is not logistically impossible.
Aqueduct is where my oldest daughter took me for my two Covid shots during the pandemic. I joked (of course) with the National Guardsmen that I loved what they had done with the place.
When you could get something resembling food at the track, Harry M. Stevens Manhattan clam chowder was always sought. Harry M. Stevcns employees were the rudest, most indifferent bunch on earth, but if you could get past the slothfulness, the soup as worth it. My joke—and that of others—was that the employees were schooled at the Harry M. Stevens Charm School.
The soup recipe must have been passed down, because at Saratoga my friend John always sought out he soup, despite the fact that Harry M. Stevens has been sold to Aramark.
Harry M. Stevens started the company in the early 1900s, selling food and beverages at New York's Polo Grounds where the baseball New York Giants played. Racetracks became outlets for his concessionaire contracts. Harry was born in England in 1855, and the family migrated to Niles, Ohio. Stevens is credited with creating the baseball scorecard.
ChatGPT gives a definition of the Charm School that avoids the sarcasm associated with the employees' work attitudes
The Harry M. Stevens Charm School was not a traditional academic school. It was a training and etiquette program associated with the historic concession company founded by Harry M. Stevens, the pioneering sports concessionaire often credited with popularizing the hot dog at baseball games. His company, Harry M. Stevens, Inc., operated food and beverage concessions at stadiums, racetracks, and arenas across North America.
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I have no idea what is to become of the Aqueduct property. A good chunk of it went to building the casino that is Resorts World, and a huge Hyatt Regency hotel. The casino now has live dealer betting on crabs, roulette and blackjack.
The Aqueduct name and the surrounding access streets, North and South Conduit Avenues, get their names from the 18th-century when Brooklyn was its own city and water was brought in through that area of South Queens from wells in Nassau County to provide Brooklyn with water.
Maestro, a little history via ChatGPT.
In the 1800s, Brooklyn was still an independent city and developed its own water supply. Much of Brooklyn's water came from groundwater wells and ponds on what is now Long Island, especially in southeastern Queens and Nassau County.
A major source was the Jamaica Pond area and other groundwater-fed ponds and streams in Queens. Water was collected and moved westward through aqueducts and pumping systems across Queens into Brooklyn.
One important project was the Ridgewood Reservoir, built in the 1850s near the Brooklyn–Queens border. Water from wells and ponds in eastern Queens was pumped to Ridgewood Reservoir and then distributed throughout Brooklyn.
Did water travel through South Queens?
Yes. Water collected from eastern Queens and Long Island groundwater sources generally moved westward through parts of Queens before reaching reservoirs and distribution facilities serving Brooklyn. Areas that are now neighborhoods such as Jamaica, Woodhaven, Richmond Hill, and other parts of southern and central Queens were part of the route of the old Brooklyn Water Works system.
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Enough already. Say goodnight Gracie. How did you do?
I forgot how to use the voucher dispensing machine. I had to watch someone put their money in and get a voucher so I could get mine. I must admit, the 20 second wait for the voucher to appear after inserting three 20s into the companion machine's maw was an eternity. I'm not getting a voucher, right? No, it worked, and well, I was off to the races.
Now in the upper reaches of my 70s, I may have a few physical hurdles with my back, but the rest of me is fine. I enjoy handicapping and did yesterday's 10-race card over Friday and Saturday morning. Crunching numbers with my self-created handicapping tool is not really exciting. Each entrant gets assigned a number derived from the addition of 11 attributes from the past performances. It's homework. A 10-race card can take some time, even with shallow field sizes.
I once read that the irrepressible Irving Berlin, who lived to be 101, said he was chuffed when very late in life he found he could still write music when he added some numbers to a revival of his musical "Annie Get Your Gun" when he was in the upper reaches of his 80s.
And luckily, the field sizes were not decimated by scratches. I look at the results in the New York Post to see which jockeys might be winning and what are the payouts.
When only one payout price is displayed, i know something went on with the field size. I look up the DRF chart to see what went on.
There was a race last week where only three horses left the starting gate, the field decimated by scratches. There was only win betting. Not that long ago there was a race where only two horses left the starting, an unintended match race. I'm waiting for only one to be left and it'll be a walkover. It's disappointing to see.
I did not hit the first two races with my usual mix of win and boxed exactas. But I did hit the third, fourth and fifth races with exacta and win bets and added nicely to my voucher.
Manny Franco won 4 races on the card, winning 2 more after getting dumped by Jack and Jim in the 5th race on the turf. Jack and Jim was not euthanized. No ambulances were required for either the Jockey or the horse. Manny makes hay when the Ortiz brothers choose to ride elsewhere. Oddly enough, there were no horses entered by Chad Brown on the card.
But after the fifth race, the Gods weren't smiling, and I finished the day still in the plus column, but not by much. I have no idea how José did. José might not know José did. Horseplayers will tell you they're "ahead," or will tell you they're "even,. or "up a bit," but they are an unaudited bunch, and are not using generally accepted accounting rules set by FASB. But just believe what they tell you. No one needs you poking your nose into it.
And what sendoff will NYRA be doing for its patrons when the place closes for good on with live racing on Sunday June 28. I'll tell you.
The indelible organization that is trumpeting "seats with a back" for the upcoming Belmont facility is offering a small jar of dirt from the track to the first 1,000 patrons who pay the $5 admission fee. Admission fee? Aqueduct hasn't had an admission fee for
decades.
Here's the promo: The first 1,000 guests on Sunday, June 28 will receive an authentic container of Aqueduct track dirt. Free with paid admission, while supplies last. [Do they really think they'll run out?]
Due to capacity constraints, Farewell Aqueduct is a ticketed event; each $5 ticket includes a commemorative program. Ticket proceeds benefit the NYRA Foundation. [Whatever that is.]
Apparel and accessories featuring the Farewell Aqueduct logo will be available to shop throughout the weekend, with select styles available now in the online store.
An art gallery by Henry Kornaros of Public Opinion will be on display featuring photographs of horses, people, and moments from Aqueduct.
I forwarded NYRA's email to Bobby G. who responded, "at least they've got a sense of humor."
Oh NYRA. How well you know your patrons.
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