TRUE TALE
After a storybook career in show business, my golden horse went out in style with a toss of the dice at a Las Vegas casino.
Frosty’s fantastic finale: After a storybook career in show business, my golden horse went out in style with a toss of the dice at a Las Vegas casino.
Itook a deep breath of the cool night air and backed Frosty out of the trailer. It was 1963 and we had just arrived at the Thunderbird Hotel and Casino in Las Vegas.
The sun had not quite set, but all around us the bright l ights of this neon city were awakening to illuminate the approaching darkness.
As I led Frosty to the rear entrance of the casino and stopped, I noticed signs of apprehension---a tightness around his mouth and a stiffened tail. His left ear was cocked in my direction. He was listening for words of reassurance.
I had first met Frosty at a friend’s barn nine years before. Nobody wanted the undersized orphan. As I looked into his stall, my blonde hair cascaded over the door and the foal came forward and buried his face in it. I slipped into his stall and stroked his back. Cupping one of his fuzzy ears in my hand I spoke quietly to him. He looked at me as if he understood.
I was lost in his gaze. I had spent my whole life looking into the eyes of horses. I’d seen fear, defiance, acceptance and affection, but here was something else. In these wide-open eyes I saw an old soul, an indomitable spirit.
At the time, I had a busy life as a horse trainer and stunt rider in Hollywood, but I knew I had to make
room in my life for this little colt. When he first came to California, I turned him out into a pasture to let him grow and develop. Then, when he was ready, I brought him in and began training him for a life in show business.
Alas, as the 1950s came to a close, the era of the Westerns was fading. Television and movie budgets no longer supported so many horses or trainers. I said goodbye to Hollywood and moved to northern California with Frosty.
Along the way, I stopped to buy a new car. As I sat at the dealership, I described to all who would listen my wonderful horse Frosty and the promotions we could do. Suddenly, a door flew open and a man hurried out. Seating himself beside me, he asked me repeat my ideas. I could tell from his well-tailored suit that he was the owner, so I gave it my best. Before the day was over, the man had sold me a fancier car, and I had sold him on the idea of doing an advertising promotion with my golden horse as the star.
So began Frosty’s next career. We made appearances at dealerships around the region, drawing carloads
of spectators. Children squealed and clapped their hands as Frosty did his tricks and dance steps; meanwhile their parents shopped for new cars.
We also did local television commercials. In one, Frosty wore a black mask and shared the scene with an actor wearing an all-black Western costume. It starts with “Black Bart” saying he’s going to sell a particular used car for a certain amount. Frosty then responds by shaking his head “No!” Next Black Bart pulls out a Blue Book, and on cue Frosty rips it out of his hands and tosses it off to the side. A newspaper ad followed up on this spot: “We’re throwing away the Blue Book!”
After a national magazine wrote a story about the success of this commercial, the job offers started rolling in from all over, including Las Vegas.
Live on the Strip
In Vegas, Frosty’s career took off. In addition to the car dealer ads, we did promotions for a local dairy and the Silver Slipper Casino. For a year, Frosty starred in his own hourlong weekly television show, Frosty’s Farm Club, and during our breaks we visited
elementary schools. He was very 111 a busy and very popular, and we fielded requests for tens of thou sands of pictures. One day, I heard that a new racetrack
was opening at the Thunderbird Hotel. Joe Wells, the executive director of the hotel as well as president of the Nevada Racing Association, was planning a grand debut. Wells was looking for an attention-grabbing show to be held within the casino itself---not on a stage in the show room.
Entertainment directors brought Wells a number of ideas, but none had really clicked with him. One idea---to bring Frosty onto the casino’s gambling floor---caught his interest, but the board thought it just wasn’t feasible. Still, Wells was curious and invited me in to see what I thought.
Together Wells and I walked around the Thunderbird gaming room to get an idea of what we might do with Frosty in the crowded space. The interior of the casino was designed to resemble a large ranch house, with heavy exposedwood trusses, mortar walls, Old West art and artifacts, and a Navajo pattern in the carpet. It was the ideal background for a horse-related event. But as my gaze skimmed around over the gaming tables I realized it would be a challenging place for a horse. Frosty and I would be surrounded by 'CI by flashing lights and and . there would be crowd noise, the sirens and bells from the slot slot = machines. Plus we'd machines, have to navigate narrow aisleways filled with four-legged stools set at cockeyed angles. On the night in question, the room would be filled with 1,500 people, drinking and gambling.
What’s more, Frosty and I would have only 10 days to prepare. I did not want to agree to some exotic stunt with a high chance of things going wrong. My breathing became a bit ragged as I prepared myself to turn down the offer. Asking Frosty to do a new stunt in this atmosphere would be too much. Then I had an idea that struck like a bolt from the blue: I could reuse the same trick I’d taught Frosty for the “throwing away the Blue Book” commercial!
“You know,” I said. “Frosty can stand at a craps table and roll the dice.”
Wells held his coffee cup at his lips with both hands as he looked at me over the rim. Then he thoughtfully lowered it to the saucer. He glanced across the casino, and smiled. Our eyes met for a moment. Frosty and I had the job.
On with the show
We were early. As we waited outside the casino doors, I looked at the profile that was so familiar to me, and I saw so many memories reflected in those expressive eyes. I whispered to him under my breath. His left ear moved … and we waited.
Frosty heard the faint clicking before I did. The sound indicated the glass doors were about to open. Frosty’s head came up and his tail rose in a plume. He knew it was time to perform. I caught a glimpse of our reflections as the huge glass doors parted and we heard Frosty’s TV theme song drifting out into the night. This was our cue.
With our first footfalls onto the plush carpet, colored spotlights fell onto us. We stood for a minute, framed by the Old West-themed murals on the walls. Frosty’s ears flipped back and forth. Standing close to his left shoulder, I heard him sigh and prepared to lead off with my right foot. The sigh told me he was ready to go.
The casino was packed. Whiffs of perfumes mixed with cigarette smoke and the scent of beer and booze. Ignoring the gamblers who swarmed around us,
"You know," I said. "Frosty can stand at a craps table and roll the dice.”