My old buddy Richard Watts has passed away down in Florida. Richard and I go way back to his days with the Debbie and Tom Harmer stable. Richard Watts and Debbie were the brains of the operation, but they got little of the credit.Richard was a character. He had a gift for telling strories that were mostly true, but sprinkled with a small portion of exaggeration or total bullshit. When I met him, I'm guessing he was around 48. To me was like a guy out of a movie. He was a black man who absolutely did not care what color you were-you were just his friend. That was sort of odd for south Florida back in the 1970s. We were all supposed to hate people of a different race, but I never bought into that strategy. Nor did Richard.
Back then Richard owned a big old pit bull-a mean s.o.b. Richard's son, Richard Jr. would fight this pit bull in the ghettos of Chicago, but only when he needed money real bad because he loved the dog. On nights that I worked for Debbie Harmer paddocking or whatever, Richard would tell us tall stories deep into the night.
I remember many Sundays at Pompano Park, we would all kick in $5 or $10 each and have a tack room buffet of baked beans, ribs, burgers, beer, corn-on-the-cob, whatever. Richard could whip together one hell of a feast with just a grill and an in-bucket hot water heater for the ear corn.
One Sunday night I was laying on the floor resting (passed out) after dinner in the tack room watching tv (Debbie kept it cleaner than most houses), and Richard's pit bull came over and snuggled up to me. I dozed back off and later when I rolled over, my hand touched this pit bull. He growled loudly and scared the drunk right out of me!
I will forever miss those days. One night Harmer's owner Mr. Day hired Richard and I to watch a dying horse and make certain he was comfortable all night. Richard and I talked outside of the hose's stall, taking turns checking on the horse every few minutes until I zonked out at 4 am. I learned more about life that night than I did in many years to that point. Richard woke me up at 6 am to go back to work in Don Irvine's stable. He handed me $50 of the $100 Mr. Day had given us, even though I dozed off for two hours. He said it was cool, and that I deserved half the money for listening to him talk all night.
Those were the truly great days of harness racing. I know somewhere right now, Richard Watts is whipping up a tack room feast and telling his version of the gospel. See you again one day sir.
