The Plunge.

We all know the end result, we witness it every day of the week. Racing in it's many shapes and forms is there for all the world to see. Of course every Tom, Dick and Harold knows full well that it hasn't always been so. Like all other organisms, it sowed its seeds in mediocrity. Long has been the struggle to lift itself from the mundane to the magnificent. We can all rejoice at the major carnivals around the globe, where the lover of the sport can enjoy watching the superstars do battle before a world wide audience than can number in the hundreds of millions. It can't be forgotten though, that these wonderful scenes are borne on the back of forgotten skirmishes that took place on make shift courses in days long gone.

One such place was St. Boniface in Winnipeg. In the nineteen twenties, in this part of Canada, there was no such thing as racing under rules. Racing here was crude. It was “owners up” or catch weights. Initially, competition was carried out among just the livestock men who worked for the Union Stock Yards. Throw two or more men together, and some sort of rivalry will always arise. If they just happen to be men of the saddle, then you can bet your bottom dollar that someone will rate his horse as being superior to anything else in the area. A challenge is usually answered. Once a bet was set, the protagonists would set off on their stock horses, for the Norwood Golf Course, some three and a half miles out of town. The race would then be undertaken along a dirt track that meandered its way through the links. At times, up to ten horses would face the starter. The pre-race warm up consisted of a hand full of charges along the open paddocks. It was just man on horse against man on horse. Some had forty pound saddles and riders weights usually fell somewhere between 120 and 150 pounds. As everybody knew each other's mounts, all who entered went in with their eyes wide open. All thought they had some kind of advantage.

It wasn't long before other horsemen from around the area were drawn into the racing scene. Fame is fame, and a buck is a buck. Those with a few extra dollars to their name sought to make quick inroads into the game by shifting away from the saddle horse. Next step was the part thoroughbred . But it wasn't until the shifties from the stock yards on the other side of the Canadian border looked to make a fast killing, that the noble pure-bred was called on to make its presence felt. The Minnesota boys from the St. Paul stock yards had nutted out a plan to rip the backside out of the wallets of the yokels from St. Boniface. And to do this, they had enlisted the services of one Charlie Freeman who just happened to own a tasty galloper called Toastmaster. The plot entailed getting the cash on, then lobbing into the Canadian camp with the pure-bred to do battle with the pride of the saddle neddies. Easy pickings. But the best laid plans of mice and men quite often turn to excrement.

The St. Boniface force certainly were not about to let the grass grow under their feet. Through ways and means not known today, the local lads became privy to the Southern raider's plans. It was quickly decided that their hard earned reserves were not to be sacrificed to a bunch of blow ins from the good old U. S. of A. It was decided that if the visitors wanted to pull a fast one, then the local stockmen would do the same. They also had the advantage of knowing the horse they were up against. With some homework behind then, they brought in a few Thoroughbreds from Calgary. Among them was a flying machine called Chandelier, who had been leased for the occasion by a local cattle dealer Jerry Dohan. It became the pea. With the cash on, the horses were called to the start. It was to be an us against them grudge match. The U.S cattlemen were there to put one over on those they though needed to be taught a lesson in racing. Don't mess with the big boys. The locals on the other hand desperately needed to stick it up the big heads from the south. Nobody knows quite how the race was run, but the result is written in the history books. The St. Paul raiders were sent packing when their charge Toastmaster broke down in transit. Then to the joy of the St. Boniface faithful, the plunge was landed when the recently leased Chandelier strolled to a handsome win.