1967-Voice Of The Tennessee Walking Horse 1967 May Voice RS | Page 20

Barnes ” he said, “I’m a man of few words. Everything
TVc n-ot I got the hard way. I started as a chain man on
an oil rig and worked my way up to Chairman of the
Board of a big oil company. I’ve had three wives, all 0f
whom got away with a bundle, and I own a good chunk
of Texas and the rights to most of her oil. When I want
something I can usually buy it and right now I want a
Champion Walking Horse. Mr. Deigo here says you’ve
not one of the best and I want him . . . what’s your
1 price
• 055
r
Lonny took a deep breath and sat down behind his
desk. Without thinking he said . . . “Well, Mr. Barrimore,
I would have to talk with his owners. I’m just his trainer,
but you you ought to know that they’ve agreed not to
take less than fifty thousand dollars.” Before he realized
what was happening Mr. Barrimore had reached in his
vest pocket and brought out a check book and a brown
paper package. “Lonny, my boy,” he said, “here is twenty
five cash,” as he dropped the small package on the desk
by Charles Barry Sanderson
Lonny Barnes, Walking Horse trainer, than at any time
since, the Walking Horse Festival, where he amazed the
show horse world by winning the Two Year Old Cham­
pionship on a bay stallion named TIGER BAY. He was
still a little bit confused by all the activity and just
couldn’t get used to driving a new Cadillac. In fact, he
had already told Helen, his wife, that he would probably
sell it the first chance he got. Helen had to admit that
she felt sort of funny driving up to their little country
church last Sunday in a big new car. She could still hear,
the comments that had come from several of the women
after services, such as, “My, my . . . aren’t these horse
folks moving up in the world” ... and “if they’ve got the
money to drive a car like that, it looks as if they could
give more money to the church.”
It had all started about a week after they got back
from Florida. At first Lonny had figured that the phone
call he got from Texas was just another inquiry regard­
ing his World Champion. He had almost forgotten the
incident until he received a telegram telling him that a
Mr. Clyde Barrimore was to arrive on a morning plane
and he was bringing his trainer with him.
Little Joe had cleaned up the stable the night before
and they were ready for company. Lonny was out back
working his good two year old when he spied the yellow
cab driving up the front road. As the two men got out he
overheard the man in the ten gallon hat say “just wait. ..
we shouldn’t be too long.” The driver settled back, put
his cap over his eyes and was content to let the meter run.
Little Joe met the two men saying, “Mista Lonny is
out back ... he be heah in a minute.” The man nodded
and went to the rear door in time to see Lonny make one
last pass across the hill and turn toward the barn in a
pretty good running walk. “That’s a good colt you’ve got
there, Mr. Barnes,” one of the men said, as Lonny dis­
mounted, handing the reins to Little Joe. “Thanks,” he
said, stepping up to his visitors, “Im Lonny Barnes.” And
“I’m Clyde Barrimore and this is my trainer Archie
Deigo.” Lonny thought to himself . . . “I’ve never heard
of this Mr. Deigo.”
Without pausing for small talk, Mr. Barrimore
launched a direct proposal to buy TIGER BAY. “Mr.
20
with a plop. “I’ll have to write you a check for the rest.”
While scribbling out the check he kept talking, “You trans­
fer the papers and I’ll have a van to pick him up in about
ten days.” Lonny could feel the blood run out of his face.
He got rather weak-kneed and stammered for words.
“Uh . . . well, Mr. Barrimore, I, uh, that is . . . ”. “I
know, my boy . . . that’s a lot of money for a country
boy, but you’ll get used to it,” stated Mr. Barrimore, as
he got up and extended his hand. Oddly enough all that
Lonny could think of to say was “But you haven’t even
seen him work. For all you know, he may have a broke
leg.” His friend replied, “If you say he is sound, that’s
good enough for me and my trainer here.” And with that
he got back in the cab and headed for the airport.
Lonny couldn’t think of anything else to do but call
the owners of TIGER BAY and ask them to meet him in
town the next day. Mr. Larson was late for the meeting
and when he arrived at the restaurant, the rest of them
had already gone over to the bank. He was conducted
into the cashier’s office and noticed the tension in the
room. “Well, fellows, what’s this all about.” The big man
with the cigar was saying, “Damn’it Lonny ... if you
had just called us or something ...” Lonny broke in
saying, “For the tenth time, I didn’t have a chance. This
guy came on like gangbusters and before I knew what
was happening he was shoving fifty thousand dollars
at me.”
Mr. Larson almost shouted . . . “fifty thousand dol­
lars . . . for what?” “For our horse, that’s what,” said
the man with the diamond stick pin, as he stood up and
went to look out the window. “Mr. Larson,” Lonny said.
“Didn’t you fellows agree not to sell TIGER for less than
fifty thousand dollars.” As Mr. Larson nodded yes, Lonny
kept talking. “Well I made the mistake of pricing him at
that yesterday and this man from Texas bought him.
There’s the money,” he said, as he pointed to the stack
of hundreds on the table. Mr. Larson picked up the stack
of loose bills and flipped through it with his thumb. And
said, Lonny Barnes, if you sold him, it’s all right with me.
How about you fellows?” They all started to talk at once
and it was obvious that two of the three were pretty
mad. “Look fellows,” said Mr. Larson. “If it’s done, let s
take our money and forget it. I never have been one to
VOICE of the Tennessee Walking Horse