JimmyCsays: At the juncture of journalism and daily life in KC

Regrettably, I won’t be at this year’s Kentucky Derby, to be run about 5:50 p.m. today, central daylight time, in my hometown of Louisville, KY.

One reason is I had back surgery two weeks ago and am not up to the drive and the output of energy a Derby requires. The other is I’m going back to Louisville the first weekend of June for the 50th reunion of my 1968 graduating class at Bellarmine University.

I’ve been to the Derby every year in recent years, and to the vast majority of them since starting to attend in 1981. During that time, I’ve had quite a few interesting Derby Day experiences, and today I’m going to share one with you.

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I moved to Kansas City from Louisville in 1969 and after a stay of few months in an apartment on Armour Boulevard, joined a co-worker and three of his MU classmates in a rental house in Brookside.

One by one, the roommates went their separate ways, and in 1977, after Capital Cities bought The Star — with a lot of us making good money on sale of Star stock — I bought two-bedroom house at 5103 Grand.

To christen the house, I decided to host a Kentucky Derby party that spring. I prepared and served mint juleps…tasting every one for quality assurance. We wrote the horses’ names in chalk on half a ping-pong table set on its side, and we formulated a rudimentary betting system in which all pool money was returned to the winning bettors.

Derby party special guest

The party was a big success, and I decided to make it an annual event. People loved them, and some who hadn’t been invited would call and ask if they could come. My answer was always, “Come on over.” One year, the guest of honor was U.S. Sen. Thomas Eagleton, who was Sen. George McGovern’s vice-presidential running mate in 1972. (For the record, Tom declined my offer of a mint julep, but he still started to get into the wrong car when he was leaving with staff aide Woody Overton.)

As good as the parties were, in 1981 I decided it was time for me to go to the Derby. Although I was born and raised in Louisville, I had only been to the Derby once during the 22 years I lived there. As I recall that was in 1963, when a horse named Candy Spots was the favorite but came in second. My boyhood friend Don Huber and I went to the Churchill Downs Infield — the cost was about $5 then ($80 today) — and all I remember is hearing the track announcer calling the race over the loudspeakers and catching glimpses of the horses from the Infield as they circled the track.

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In ’81, I determined I was not going back to the Infield. So, I and some of my friends got tickets in an area called the Grandstand Terrace, which sounds good but in fact affords the lowest — and worst — vantage point of the track. (Generally, the higher you are, the better your view of the races.) We were at the top of the stretch, however, where the Derby starting gate is located and where we had a tremendous view of the start and could hear the gates slam open for the Derby and feel the penetrating ringing of the starting bell.

I had made a bold and very big bet — big, that is, relative to what I normally was betting back then. I put $50 to win on a horse named Pleasant Colony, a closer, who went off at odds of 7-2.

As the race got underway, I couldn’t see where Pleasant Colony was. These were the days before monitors and big screens for spectators’ convenience, and, as in 1963, about all I could do was listen to the track announcer’s call. That told me enough, however, to know that Pleasant Colony was on the move about three-quarters of a mile into the mile and a quarter race.

As the horses neared the turn into the stretch — where we were standing and straining to see — I picked up Pleasant Colony. He was accelerating and passing horses easily. I let out a whoop, and as the horses turned for home, Pleasant Colony went to the front and powered to a one- to two-length lead…My heart was about to explode from my chest.

Still, a quarter of a mile remained, and the outcome was far from certain. By then, all we could see was the horses’ rumps undulating frantically and rhythmically and getting farther from us with every second.

I could see enough, though, to tell that another horse was moving up on Pleasant Colony. He was gaining — gradually, steadily — and the question was: Would Pleasant Colony be able to hold him at bay? When they hit the finish line, I was pretty sure Pleasant Colony had held on for the win, but I wasn’t sure: I’d have to wait for the numbers to go up on the big electronic tote board in the Infield.

My lifelong friend Bill Russell, who was in the group, didn’t help matters. Instead of assuring me Pleasant Colony had held on, he started saying, “I don’t know, Jim, it looked like that other horse was comin’ on really strong. He might have caught him.”

Bill continued needling me, sowing seeds of doubt — and laughing — as we waited for the numbers to go up. Finally, after what seemed like half an hour but was really only a few minutes, Pleasant Colony’s No. 4 lit up at the top of the tote board…He had held on by three-quarters of a length to defeat a horse named Woodchopper.

I cut loose with some more whoops and throat-threatening yelling and went to cash my winning ticket. I got back $225 — $175 in winnings, plus my original $50.

Full of myself and feeling very large, I treated our group of about eight people to dinner that night, and, as I recall, the $175 in winnings covered the entire tab, including drinks…Of course, that was 1981, the year of my first real and unforgettable Kentucky Derby.

Pleasant Colony, headed down the stretch in the 1981 Kentucky Derby