The Broken Arrow Horseback Riding Club of Chicago held it's 30th Annual High Noon Ride this weekend and I got to shoot it from the back of a golf cart.
My parents were equestrians, and they would drag me kicking and screaming to the stable at 60th and Cottage Grove. As a child I was adverse to anything dirty and smelly. And the sheer strength and power of the equines was daunting to my six year old self.
The Hyde Park Riding Stable at 742 East 61st Street was home to Chicago's Black equestrians until it burned down in the 60's.
My Dad bought Mom a roan named Big Sid, but he was gone by the time I was born. Mom wore jodphurs and rode 'English style. Dad is cowboy all the way.
That's Mom with my brother's horse Memphis. They took to each other right away. Me, not so much.
What little interest I had in horses faded as I grew old and jaded, but my brother's love for all thing equine has never wavered. He was the first Black carriage horse driver way back when Chicago allowed horses to ferry tourist around the Gold Coast.
My experience on this year's ride was an eye-opener. I sometimes forget just how much Black blood, sweat and tears nourished the fields and tended the cattle and livestock of this country. While there were only 25 riders this year, dozens more brought out their animals and picniced in the park. As many as 200 riders have participated in High Noon Rides in the past.
The woman on Lady is 83 year's young and her steed is 30,that's her in the second photo, I wanna be just like her when I grow up.
They were a game pair on the trail from 52nd and King Drive to 47th and the lakefront and back. She lagged a little at first, but by the time we got back she was loping along grinning ear to ear.
Vehicle traffic cooperated when a troops of 25 horses and riders crossed Hayes Drive, but were not even phased because of the fantastic photo op. I was giddy myself, trundling along, hanging on for dear life. I felt a bit like a movie director, hanging off the back of a cherry picker. And I have the bruises to prove it. Our cart his a sidewalk pothole and I hit my head on the cart roof.
The weather was cooperating, the brash tones of the "Bantu Fest" on the Midway was counter-point to the clop-clop of horses hooves.
Everywhere I looked people were smiling, even folks stuck in traffic while we crossed Stoney Island. The group stayed together, supported each other and Murdock was the 'hat catcher' cause the wind was whipping cowboy hats off left and right.
As I rode along our beautiful lakefront, I thought back to all the Black horse-folk who had ridden the bridle paths of Chicago before us. People like Isaac Burns Murphy, a Black athlete once considered the "Prince of Jockeys". He won 3 Kentucky Derbies, and raced at the Washington Park Race track.
I remembered the smell of fresh hay and road apples, the whinny of a horse happy to be riding with their manes in the wind.
There is a kinship among horse people that is rare and beautiful to behold. All differences set aside, there was nothing but the blue sky, wonderful weather and laughter in the summer air. We ambled along the one of the world's greatest backdrop, Lake Michigan.
The riders were polite to vehicle and pedestrian traffic and stayed on grass as much as possible, but if you step in a road apple, I extend profound apologies on the horses' behalf.
This experience touched me deeply. Between photos, I channeled the first group of escaped slaves from South Carolina who arrived at Fort Dearborn, Chicago in 1832. I tried to see the mighty lake through their eyes, the fields of wild onions stretching out for miles. I could almost hear their sighs of freedom, safety and deliverance.
I choose to think they would be proud of this group, on a beautiful Summer afternoon, enjoying a High Noon Ride. I certainly was.
