You Know Me and Horses, Al

Hiyu, Al. It's my pleasure to hear your voice again. How's things on the Coast? The babies been coming home for you at Santa Anita? Good boy. Here, you ask? Here things ain't so copacetic. In case you ain't heard, we got off-track betting in New York City now--first in the nation. I agree, Al; that's got no class at all. This wisenheimer, Howard Samuels, didn't have nothing to do since Arthur Goldberg beat him in the Democratic primary for Governor last year, so he up and organizes this Off-Track Betting Corp. for the purpose of bringing new scratch into our not-so-fair-any-more city.

Now in all fair play--and you know me, Al, I'm a fervent exponent of fair play--I gotta admit that it looks like a good hustle, fiscally speaking. Why, on the first day alone, the two betting parlors in Forest Hills and Grand Central Station and a phone joint pulled in a nifty $62,306! But like you said, Al, where's the class? No leaning over the rail cheering them babies home, no hanging around the paddock with Charlie Highpockets and Danny the Dip. Just stand in line--hoo, boy, what lines!--and place your bets.

And the confusion! At Grand Central you can't tell the action crowd from the nine-to-fivers. Singapore Sammy stopped there to put a saw on Carry-Me-Back in the fifth at Roosevelt and wound up on the 5:14 to Greenwich. And some jerk commuter in a sulky tie accidentally picked up 800 green ones on the daily double. Our esteemed bookies are now very upset persons, since their action has now gone legit. The whole deal, Al--well, it's got no romance. And you know me and horses, Al. When it comes to the ponies I'm your original romantic.

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