My family has always been in the horse business, even before they came to America. In fact, that's how they were able to have enough money to come here in the first place, and all at the same time. Three generations came at once, and all because of their horses.
Catherine's husband had died, leaving her with seven children, six boys and one girl and the livery stable they had owned together. She hung on as long as she could, squirreling away every penny, then sold the horses and the business, I was told, at a very good price for the day. It was enough to buy a first class ticket for everyone: the five boys, her mother, her younger sister, and still have enough to live a nice life until they got themselves established here. Three strong, intelligent women with good business sense, and five young boys came alone, with no other family to help them, and no one waiting for them here.To the new world they came, from Ireland, somewhere around the late 1890s, just before the turn of the century. Georgie Boy, the littlest, had been born exactly one month after his father had died. Little Georgie was also the seventh son of a seventh son.
Of course they started the business they knew, Horses. They bought/built/occupied a stable in what is now part of downtown St. Louis. In fact, that very building was still standing the last time I visited there. They specialized in livery. They had coaches and carriages and teams for hire, and also wagons with matched teams of draft horses. They had riding horses for hire, too. They regularly bought and sold horses, and trained their own teams. The boys were known for "gentling" horses instead of breaking them. They could take a green horse and make him into a bombproof gentleman's horse in two week's time. This was still during the day that horses ruled and before engines overtook the streets of the world.
I'm not sure how they came by "Yella," a giant, draft colt, since they almost strictly had matched teams of draft horses, not singletons. A single riding horse or carriage horse yes, but never a single draft horse. Perhaps they bought a mare and he was the foal at her side. At any rate, Yella was a singleton, and could never be matched. He was an odd color, and huge, even by draft horse standards. He loved little Georgie boy, and would follow him around like a puppy. Georgie slept in the stable in Yella's stall on warm nights every chance he got, which was as often as he could sneak out of the house without anyone noticing. The two were always together, until Yella got old enough and big enough to be hired out on jobs.
Georgie, while still a boy, became Yella's driver. A team was two matched horses and their driver. But together, Georgie and Yella made a team, because Yella by himself was as strong as two horses together.Yella would do anything Georgie asked of him. Georgie and Yella became known all over town for pulling loads no other two-horse teams would take, or for navigating difficult terrain, and for generally doing jobs other double teams had refused. Georgie Boy and Yella were always sent out on the most difficult jobs and were famous for getting the job done.
By the time Georgie was a young man he and Yella were a legend around town. One day there was drink involved. In those days, anyone who could reach the bar and had the coin, was served whatever they ordered. It didn't take much to get a kid drunk--Georgie was a young teenager and had a small, wiry build, so in his case it didn't take much at all. On that particular day, Georgie boy had already drunk his fill. He boasted, "I have one hundred dollars that says my horse, Yella, can out-pull any team in the city." Days went by and Georgie finally had a taker. The object to be pulled was a loaded barge, sitting some ways out in the Mississippi River. The double team went first, pulling the barge closer, but gave out way before it was even near to the levy. The barge was still in the channel! The heavily loaded barge was and hauled back to the starting point by two 4-mule teams on the Illinois side of the river bank. The double team of horses that had given out were unhooked from the traces and Yella stepped in, to be chained to the barge.
Georgie stood in front of Yella, put his hand on his nose and quietly said, "Come on, Yella....Come on, Yella." And Yella came. He pulled like he had never pulled before and didn't stop. "Come on, Yella." Georgie stood in front of him coaxing him farther, standing in front of him and walking backwards constantly saying, "Come on, Yella." Yella came...All by himself, he landed the barge and pulled it half way up the cobblestones of the levy. Yella then gave out a big sigh and fell over dead. His huge heart had burst from the tremendous effort. Georgie's heart broke at the same time. He cradled Yella's giant head in his lap, begging him to get up, tears streaming down his face.
The double team's driver came over and threw down $100 in bills saying, "That's some horse ya got there, kid." Georgie won the hundred dollars, but he realized too late it was not worth the price of poor Yella's life, and that the cost of his drunken boasting was paid with life of his dear friend. As long as he lived, Georgie never had another drink. Some lessons are harder to learn than others.
Georgie boy was my grandfather. As an old man he still carried the map of Ireland on his face, and still spoke with a brogue, even though he'd spent the majority of his life in America. He taught me a lot about horses, and started me riding at age 3. He told me this story when I was a little girl. I remember the tears just pouring down his face as he told it, his voice shaking as the great shame he carried fell from his lips. My grandfather grieved the loss of Yella's life until his dying day. Yella is the reason I don't drink.
Of course they started the business they knew, Horses. They bought/built/occupied a stable in what is now part of downtown St. Louis. In fact, that very building was still standing the last time I visited there. They specialized in livery. They had coaches and carriages and teams for hire, and also wagons with matched teams of draft horses. They had riding horses for hire, too. They regularly bought and sold horses, and trained their own teams. The boys were known for "gentling" horses instead of breaking them. They could take a green horse and make him into a bombproof gentleman's horse in two week's time. This was still during the day that horses ruled and before engines overtook the streets of the world.
I'm not sure how they came by "Yella," a giant, draft colt, since they almost strictly had matched teams of draft horses, not singletons. A single riding horse or carriage horse yes, but never a single draft horse. Perhaps they bought a mare and he was the foal at her side. At any rate, Yella was a singleton, and could never be matched. He was an odd color, and huge, even by draft horse standards. He loved little Georgie boy, and would follow him around like a puppy. Georgie slept in the stable in Yella's stall on warm nights every chance he got, which was as often as he could sneak out of the house without anyone noticing. The two were always together, until Yella got old enough and big enough to be hired out on jobs.
Georgie, while still a boy, became Yella's driver. A team was two matched horses and their driver. But together, Georgie and Yella made a team, because Yella by himself was as strong as two horses together.Yella would do anything Georgie asked of him. Georgie and Yella became known all over town for pulling loads no other two-horse teams would take, or for navigating difficult terrain, and for generally doing jobs other double teams had refused. Georgie Boy and Yella were always sent out on the most difficult jobs and were famous for getting the job done.
By the time Georgie was a young man he and Yella were a legend around town. One day there was drink involved. In those days, anyone who could reach the bar and had the coin, was served whatever they ordered. It didn't take much to get a kid drunk--Georgie was a young teenager and had a small, wiry build, so in his case it didn't take much at all. On that particular day, Georgie boy had already drunk his fill. He boasted, "I have one hundred dollars that says my horse, Yella, can out-pull any team in the city." Days went by and Georgie finally had a taker. The object to be pulled was a loaded barge, sitting some ways out in the Mississippi River. The double team went first, pulling the barge closer, but gave out way before it was even near to the levy. The barge was still in the channel! The heavily loaded barge was and hauled back to the starting point by two 4-mule teams on the Illinois side of the river bank. The double team of horses that had given out were unhooked from the traces and Yella stepped in, to be chained to the barge.
Georgie stood in front of Yella, put his hand on his nose and quietly said, "Come on, Yella....Come on, Yella." And Yella came. He pulled like he had never pulled before and didn't stop. "Come on, Yella." Georgie stood in front of him coaxing him farther, standing in front of him and walking backwards constantly saying, "Come on, Yella." Yella came...All by himself, he landed the barge and pulled it half way up the cobblestones of the levy. Yella then gave out a big sigh and fell over dead. His huge heart had burst from the tremendous effort. Georgie's heart broke at the same time. He cradled Yella's giant head in his lap, begging him to get up, tears streaming down his face.
The double team's driver came over and threw down $100 in bills saying, "That's some horse ya got there, kid." Georgie won the hundred dollars, but he realized too late it was not worth the price of poor Yella's life, and that the cost of his drunken boasting was paid with life of his dear friend. As long as he lived, Georgie never had another drink. Some lessons are harder to learn than others.
Georgie boy was my grandfather. As an old man he still carried the map of Ireland on his face, and still spoke with a brogue, even though he'd spent the majority of his life in America. He taught me a lot about horses, and started me riding at age 3. He told me this story when I was a little girl. I remember the tears just pouring down his face as he told it, his voice shaking as the great shame he carried fell from his lips. My grandfather grieved the loss of Yella's life until his dying day. Yella is the reason I don't drink.
So many powerful things in that one story.... I think we'd all do well to learn to be as loyal as a horse, and caring enough to remember , as your grandfather did, and wise enough to learn from others, as you did. Jw
ReplyDeleteThank you, JW. What a nice compliment you've paid me! It made me cry to write down this story, which is not really a story, but a telling of actual happenings. My grandfather carried this event around his neck like a millstone. As I said, it was his one great shame in life, and had an impact on every thing he did afterward. I do think everyone who reads it can learn something from it, and hopefully take it to heart.
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