Still in history mode as we celebrate 25 years of The Special…
We made it back for the second year. It was a close call. Looking back, I guess we broke even the first year. Certainly, didn’t make any money but we somehow, someway, saw a few glimmers of hope to return the next year. It was better. Marginally better.
During the winter, we received an email from a Baltimore-based lacrosse goalie and racing fan who wanted to work at The Special. He said he read the paper the summer before (so there was one…) and wanted to be doing what we were doing. I told him to show up. And never thought about him again.
Quint Kessenich came bounding into the office in the Arcade Building the day before Opening day, shook Joe’s hand, my hand in a whirl of energy and asked what we wanted him to do. We gave him an idea for a story. He turned on his heel and bounded out of the office and down the stairs. We weren’t sure we’d ever see him again. He didn’t ask how many words, didn’t ask when we needed it, didn’t ask where he could park, didn’t ask if he had a credential, didn’t ask about press box access, didn’t ask if there was a chance he’d get paid. He simply went to work.
His first byline appeared on page nine in the second edition. I don’t remember assigning it. I think he just wrote it and sent it.
It made the paper and went like this…
Opening day is here. I have always dreamed of spending a chunk of my summer at Saratoga. I park a few blocks away from the track, near Five Points Delicatessen, convenient because I need to purchase The Racing Form. As I’m paying for the Form, a house painter asks if I can open it up and show him the eighth. He says he has a tip.
“My buddy was painting a barn yesterday and got a tip that Auction House was going to run big in the eighth.” He makes sure nobody else can hear him, commits the saddlecloth number to memory and scurries out.
We knew then that Quint was our style. And, no, Auction House did not win the eighth.
The feature went on from there and so did Quint. He banged out stories like he deflected lacrosse balls in an All-American career at Johns Hopkins. An early one on the painted horses of Saratoga, several that featured his go-to racetracker Leon Blusiewicz and another based on question marks on a stall list. I do remember assigning this one on Quint’s first day in the office. There were 130 trainers on the official Saratoga stall list. Two had question marks at the end of their names. Gerrity(?) – Barn 2 and Marshall(?) – Barn 26. I told Quint to find them. And, yes, it was a test.
Quint weaved a story that only The Special could love, let alone print.
It started with a security guard at the harness track, warned of a supervisor, rolled its way down Nelson Avenue, into Sanford Court, back to the harness track and wound up with Quint hitching a ride in a pick-up truck owned by stall superintendent Paul Herrington.
“Good morning, I’m looking for a trainer by the name of Gerrity.”
She quizzically looks at her friend and responds. “There’s no one here by that name. We’ve got Linda Rice, Joe Imperio and Joe Aquilino. This is Sanford Court Barn 2. You must be looking for harness Barn 2.”
The walk continues.
Gonzo journalism comes to the racetrack, and always in present tense.
As Kim rakes and rubs her two Thoroughbreds, we chat.
“Who’s Gerrity?” I repeat.
“I think he’s a shareholder of the harness track. They call him the president,” she said.
“So, he’s not the trainer of these horses?”
“No.”
“Who is?”
“I don’t know. I thought you were when you walked up earlier.”
Quint switched gears and looked for Marshall.
After a five-minute stroll, I poke into Barn 26, home of Niall Brennan, and ask for a trainer named Marshall.
With an Irish accent, he chirps, “Marshall…Glen Marshall. He’s at the other end.”
A hot walker named Sherry greets me. I explain that I’m looking for Glen Marshall. What ensues is straight out of Abbott and Costello.
Sherry questions me, “You mean Glenn DiSanto?”
“I counter with, “No, Glen Marshall.” Sherry says, “There’s nobody hear named Glen Marshall. This is Glenn DiSanto’s barn. He’s got nine horses and two on the other side. One of his owners is Jim Marshall – he’s got a horse, he got us these stalls. Glenn’s at the track now.”
The wait begins.
Forty-one pigeons sit on the roof. A portly sulky driver rolls past and brags, “You guys ever meet the real Danzig? He’s right here, winner of five races this year and $193,000. He’s the real Danzig.”
The story spread over two pages, Quint eventually and comically unraveled the story of the question marks on the stall list. Most importantly, he passed his first test, was on his way and The Special’s legacy of developing interns had begun.
Quint came back for another summer or two before going onto bigger and better things. Way bigger and better things. You’ll see him on ESPN these days, analyzing and reporting on college football, lacrosse, wrestling and other sports.
As for Gerrity(?) and Marshall(?), they’re out there somewhere.
