Joe makes his way to the horse races

(Set in about 1936 when Joe Pitts, a boy of 16, headed south to find his uncle.)

The next morning after spending the night with the family that owned the store and station in Y City, the owner got me a ride with a couple going to the horse races in Hot Springs. At the race track, the people had tickets for seats in the stands. They showed me an area where you could stand by the fence and watch the races without paying.

This was a large area and there were several people there. I found me a good spot where I could see the whole racetrack. I had never seen a pure-bred horse race before. Just before the races started, many more people showed up and the area became crowed. A young man about my age came and stood next to me. You could tell he had been there before because he had racing forms and the whole bit. He told me he lived just south of town and he came to all of the races. He told me that if you studied the horses over a long period of time, had a set plan and stuck to it, and didn’t bet hunches, that you could make wages betting on the horses.

Before each race, there were bookies working for the race track who wore badges. They came by and took any bet, from 25 cents and up. Then, before the next race, they would come by and pay the winners. The boy said he would bring $5, if he lost it all, that would be it for the day. He would bet at least 25 cents on every race and sometimes more. The amount of pay would be determined by the odds on the board. About the fifth race, he said that he was sure about the horse he picked in this race and the odds were good. He bet $5 on the race and I bet 50 cents. The horse won the race and the bookie came by and gave me $2.50 and gave the boy $25. That was the first, last and only time I have ever bet on a horse race.

When the races were over, the boy asked me to go home with him. We caught a city bus and rode to the end of the line, which was the city limits. We walked over a bridge that was over Lake Catherine and about a half mile to where he lived. I saw the boy give his mother $10. The boy was the oldest child of a big family. I spent the night with them. His mother set a good table and it made me think of my mother and home. The next morning I stayed with the boy until he was ready to go to the races. I got my duffel bag and started trying to thumb a ride.

After awhile, I was picked up by a farmer in a farm truck. His name was Homer Yates and he lived just past Bismark about 15 miles south of Hot Springs. He was a truck gardener and ran a route into Hot Springs six days a week. Homer asked me where I was going and I told him I was going to Camden to try and find my uncle. He asked me my uncle’s name and told me he knew some people in Camden.

I told him his name was Fred Buttram and my mother was worried because he hadn’t written for quite some time. Homer then told me he had known Fred Buttram for over 20 years.

To be continued.

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Editor’s note: Joe Pitts was a native of Pea Ridge and regular columnist for the newspaper. He died on Aug. 18, 2008. He was born Jan. 29, 1920, at Sunny Slope Orchard Farm near Pear Ridge, and was the fifth son of Charles (Choc) and Phebe Buttram Pitts. He attended Cross Lanes, Liberty and Garfield schools and graduated from Garfield High School in 1938. He began writing a column for The Times in 2000 initially entitled “Things Happen” by Joe “Pea Patch” Pitts. He started research for the book Nicholas Pitts YK2 in about 1980. The book was published in 2000. This column was first published Oct. 5, 2005, in the Pea Ridge TIMES.