Page 32 - December 2006 The Game
P. 32

32 The Game, December 2006 Canada’s Thoroughbred Racing Newspaper
Charlie Danbrook: Exercising His Wisdom
Charlie Danbrook invited me to his house in north Brampton. His home is as warm and comfortable as you could imagine. He shows me the spacious wood-paneled family room he built him- self, then tells me to look out the back windows.
“There’s my pride and joy,” he laughs pointing at the in-ground swimming pool he had installed for his children and grandchildren.
Danbrook might not want to admit it, but he seems to carry the stigma of being an exercise rider, that somehow his livelihood was a one-way ticket to destitution. He says that when he first started dating his wife Norma, her mother warned that Charlie was headed for skid row. So when he bought his first sailboat, he named it Skid Rowe.
Clearly Danbrook’s life is a long gallop from poverty but, as a teenager, he had to overcome great fear before he became a skilled rider.
“When I first started getting on horses, I was 4’11” and I weighed 75 pounds”, says Danbrook. “I was scared to death. IwassoscaredwhenIknewIhadtoget on a horse, I used to go back to the house and throw up.”
Danbrook’s father easily accepted his oldest son’s wish to leave school to work at the races; in fact, the teenager’s father introduced him to trainer Johnny Starr in 1960.
“I got the job right then, cleaning the stalls and everything else,” he recalls, “and when the yearlings came in I started breaking them.”
In 1961, Danbrook worked for Buddy Carter in Kettleby and the next year he hooked up with Jerry (J.C.) Meyer.
“I sat out in security because they wouldn’t let me in and J.C. Meyer picked me up and I walked hots for him for a couple of months.”
Meyer let Danbrook break his year- lings and the teenager was determined to be a professional jockey. Unfortunately, that became impossible.
“I went to Maryland with J.C. Meyer in 1964. I was 19,” says Danbrook, “I was down there at 90 pounds and I got sick at Bowie racetrack. I had a temperature of 105. I got over that, but when I returned the next March, I was 120 pounds. All of a sudden I grew.”
Danbrook has a catch phrase he uses often.
I had to make it happen.
So when he realized he would never be a jockey, Danbrook decided to make it happen.
“I couldn’t do what I wanted to do,” he recalls sadly, “But I thought I can be an exercise boy and start saving my money and just make things happen. At that time you could buy a house for $16000.”
At $2 a horse in the early 60s, Danbrook was able to ride as many as 15-20 each morning. By spending very little and investing scrupulously, Danbrook, gallop by gallop, bought himself a house.
“My first mortgage was $260 a month. I had kids coming and bills to pay but I had no problem,” he states proudly.
“I met my wife, Norma, December 6, 1966,” he says with a huge smile on his face, “I just walked into a shoe store and there she was.”
“So if the shoe fits, wear it,” I joke. “Pretty much,” he laughs.
For 37 years, the shoe has fit very well.
Norma and Charlie were married in 1969 and have three children, Diane, Denise and Michael and four grandchildren, with two more on the way – Denise is pregnant with her second child and Michael is marrying Jennifer, a woman who has an 11 year-old daughter, Elizabeth.
“All of my grandchildren have more class than a Kentucky thoroughbred,” says Danbrook proudly.
Danbrook identifies one thing that has helped their marriage survive almost four decades.
“We have one thing in common,” he says, his face full of mischief, “We’re both in love with me.”
The Danbrook family room is alive with dozens of framed pictures of their children and grandchildren and there’s a stretch of photographs of Charlie on the some of the horses he has ridden. He points at North From Nashua, which was trained by Sam Dixon and owned by the
Photos clockwise from top left:
Charlie riding North From Nashua which was owned by Jake Howard
Charlie on King Corrie before the 1992 Breeders Cup
Charlie Danbrook outside his home
late Jake Howard, of whom Danbrook speaks warmly. Next to that one is a shot of Danbrook on King Corrie in the morning at Gulfstream. This picture was taken before the 1992 Breeders’ Cup. King Corrie, owned by Aubrey Minshall, was ridden in the sprint by Dave Penna and came 6th.
Then there’s the 1987 picture of Danbrook on Trooper John, his favourite horse.
“I galloped him from the time he was a two year old until Vern Hamilton retired him,” he recalls, “He wouldn’t drop him in for a claim because he didn’t want to take the chance that someone else might abuse him. When Trooper John left the racetrack, I led him on the van and that was the last time I saw him.”
From forty years of working thorough- breds, Danbrook says the key is to program controlled aggression into the racehorse.
“When you get to the 3/8th pole, you chirp to him. You just have to make him aggressive and make him pick it up a lit- tle bit. They have to get into the habit of running through the lane. When they hit that grandstand they need to drop their heads, run and get past that grandstand as quickly as they can. If you can get 60% of the exercise boys on the racetrack to do that, it’s going to upgrade the value of thoroughbreds in Toronto.”
Danbrook, like all riders, suffered his share of spills and injuries, but it was a freak accident in 1999 that ended his exercise career.
“It was broken equipment,” he says,
shrugging his shoulders, “I saddled him up and was looking at the webbings on the stirrup and they looked a little frail, but I thought no problem. I dropped them because I usually ride long when I’m galloping. At the 3/8ths pole, the one snapped so I got my other foot out of the stirrup and I cowboyed him around. The outrider reached for me and he kind of hesitated and went to the right and the horse popped me out of the saddle. My body swung around and I landed on my knees and snapped my femur and I lost all my top teeth because my face went into my knee. That’s how weird I came off.”
A year after that accident, Danbrook tried to resurrect his riding career, but the pain was too much.
“I was 55. That was the wakeup call,” he says philosophically, “It was my body talking to me.”
Throughout his riding days, Danbrook always seemed to have an afternoon job. At times he worked the change booth at Fort Erie. Since 1975, he has operated cameras at the track, for a while from the rooftop and also from the tower at the east end. For the past five years, he’s been clocking the horses in the morning.
“I grew up on the racetrack,” he says in a way of summing up his life, “I was educated on the racetrack.”
Danbrook names three people as the most influential in his life.
His father:
“My dad taught me right from wrong.” Horseman Jake Howard, who simply
impressed him with a passion for the business:
“He treated everyone with respect. He showed me respect.
Trainer Joe Bakos (who passed away last year):
“Joe Bakos taught me how to be smart and how to be diplomatic about it.”
Now, as a clocker, Danbrook is often asked by friends if he’s seen a horse or two that looked ready to win. Apparently asking for such information is a waste of time.
“I got to tell you. I really don’t know,” he states emphatically, “It’s not the only horse I clocked. I haven’t a clue. The charts are coming out -pick a chart up and check it out.”
So, I suggest, you’d be a lousy guy to gotoforatip.
Danbrook laughs.
“Big time!” he exclaims, but feeling sorry for his interviewer offers some consolation.
“The only thing I’ll give you a tip on is - get some real estate and hold on to it. That’s where I made a lot of my money.”
And a couple of hours at Danbrook’s home tells me that, indeed, he made it happen.


































































































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