Durk and I attended the ssme grammar school and high school--yes, they did still call idt "grammar School" and we were taught grammar. Our shared history included having older brothers in the same year of school (five years ahead of us). This meant we both inherited nicknames, prefaced with the word "Little." "Little Durk" became "Durk," and, no, I'm not telling you mine. We went to separate colleges, many miles away from home, and so, saw a good deal less of each other after turning eighteen. After college, I wound up home and looking for a job at about the same time Durk was. He was taller than me, by an inch or so, and had put on a few pounds in college, just as I did. When we made contact again, and started hanging around with the same old gang (not in the gangsta sense, mind you), Durk resumed a habit he had begun in our late high school and early college years. Durk was a talented mimic, and could reproduce the tone, pace and content of Chicago's favorite horse racing announcer, Phil Georgeff. Durk, when allowed a sufficient supply of beer, would always offer a racing call some time during any gathering of more than four of us. He would give us each a horse, and using a made up nickname, would say, "Make the jockey _______. Each of his friends was given a mount, and the race was on. As any trained professional would, Durk would state each horse's name and position off the lead at the various poles in the race, then call the top five or so down the stretch. We were never certain how he decided who would be the winner in his mind's eye, but it was always a great privilege to be named the winner, with significant returns for bets made to win, place and show.
As the years passed, we landed career jobs. Some married, and some moved away. I married, and wound up in St. Louis for a time, and Durk began selling custom-made golf clubs for his uncle. He never managed to gain any traction in that field, the big names took over and small custom made brands were soon a thing of the past. Durk decided to follow his dream and enter the horse racing world, getting his start tracking statistics on each race for The Racing Form, at a couple of smallish tracks near St. Louis, Fairmont and Cahokia Downs. Guys like Durk worked at each track in the country, dutifully noting the every horse's position from post to post, and giving the winner's time. This became the data on which the knowledgeable bettor based his wagers at each day's races. Lesser bettors relied on "tip sheets" which offered up recommended bets and long shots, based on an "insider's" knowledge of the horses, jockeys, trainers and owners. I think working for The Racing Form was pretty much a minimum wage job, but it gained Durk access to the inner workings of the horse racing world and you could tell he was enjoying himself. Anyway, Durk quickly mastered the data recording and began using a cassette player to record his "call" of each race as a sort of audition tape he could send off to prospective employers in need of a track announcer.
I think his first gigs were at state and county fairs across the Midwest, but the first "real" track announcer's job involved returning to those St. Louis tracks. Thus, it became a habit for Durk to come to our house on his Sundays off, and spend the day with us. We tried our hand at tennis, and did what friends do, we hung out. On days after Durk had placed a winning bet, he would arrive with a new racket and tennis shorts and shirt. Win or lose, he also brought along a bottle of bourbon, his favorite drink. While we helped him drink it, My wife and I had to work the next day, and probably dodn't do our share. Durk would tell us track stories, and we would go to the track when time allowed and Durk would invite us to watch the race from the announcer's booth (when he was working for The Form, it was the roof outside the announcer's booth). Pretty quickly Durk learned that neither bourbon
nor betting were good for his track voice, so he gave them up.
We had a family, and our trips back to Chicago became less frequent, and usually fully occupied by visiting with family. In any event, we lost touch. Durk's career skyrocketed, almost in storybook fashion, after twenty years or so, working at larger and more prestigious tracks across the country, Durk became the voice of the Breeder's Cup races, covered heavily in the news and on television. The pinnacle was the time (nearly a decade) during which he had a TV contract to call each of the Triple Crown races for TV viewers. Each time the Triple Crown rolled around, we would proudly remember him as my childhood friend and our frequent guest in that first year or two of struggling to get his start.
Last year (or was it two years ago?)) he ended his contract with the TV network, and limited his race calling to the New York Horse Racing Association, which races at two tracks in New York, Belmont and Saratoga Springs. On the day of the Belmont Stakes, Durk announced he would be retiring at the end of this season in August after forty-some years in the business. I have sent Tom a note, asking if we might join him for a day's racing in his final season as we did in his very first. I am waiting for his reply.
