Angel is from Mexico, he says he became a carriage driver because he loves horses and would never be a part of harming them or seeing them mistreated. He has a ready smile, and a gentle manner with his horse, I watched him throughout the morning, he says he does not care to drive an electric car and can’t imagine they would ever replace a horse.
Collum is from Northern Ireland, he is a carriage horse driver. He asked me if I wanted to see his horse kiss him, they do it several times a day and I said yes, and I did enjoy seeing it, I wonder if I can get Simon to do it. Collum used a high-pitched voice and leaned in and got a big nose kiss. I asked Collum if he would ever ride an electric car and he said no, he would not, he said it would be just like replacing the Statue Of Liberty with a puppet.
I went back to New York City for the fourth time in two months yesterday in search of the people at the center of the controversy over the future of the carriage horses, and I found some – the carriage drivers. Every time I talk to these people, I find myself fascinated by them and drawn to them, and I confess I identity with them in a lot of ways. They share my view of animals and their place in our world, they are fighting to keep a way of life that is almost unaccountably under siege.
I love being a writer and do not covet anyone else’s life, but this is work I would love to do. It is outdoors, it changes constantly and involves great freedom and autonomy, it involves people and animals, is as far from the suffocating life of corporate America as one could get and is one of the few surviving ways of life for the individual. I see this world a bit through the eyes of the delighted tourists and children who just light up at the sight of these animals in the midst of this beautiful park in the Emerald City. I always think the same thing: see how these horses belong there.
I bit off a bit more than I could chew yesterday, I got up at 2 a.m. to catch a train that would get me to New York in time, I foolishly – as always – carried camera bags that weighed about 50 pounds, and developed a fever that just wore me by the early afternoon. I was just worn out. Still, it was great fun, I was so glad I went. It was a gorgeous day and tourists and families seem to rush to ride the horses through Central Park, which positively glowed in the Spring sunlight. It is a beautiful thing to see the horses making their way on their trails in this wondrous park, they look sometimes as if they had grown out of the ground just like the big old tress.
Before I faded and succumbed and headed back to Bedlam Farm, I met Stephen Malone at the Clinton Park Stables on the West Side and rode with him to Central Park and around it, and we talked about the political struggles raging around the horses. Stephen had clearly given the word, and the drivers happily talked to me and posed for me. I could ask them about anything, there were no secrets or forbidden questions.
My purpose is to seek out and share the human part of this story, the great untold part. I rarely see the carriage horse drivers quoted or interviewed anywhere, they are generally demonized as thugs, animal abusers or thieves. Every Sunday afternoon, demonstrators come and call them names – like “greedy killers” and wave placards at the horses to try and spook them. These are tough and women, but it hurts, they are human beings, something it seems some people forget, and it is hard sometimes to explain this to their children. Many of them to have children.
I want to get to know these men and women myself and hear their voices and talk about their feelings and families. I want to take their pictures. I want to understand their point of view and witness their unique relationship with the carriage horses – there is great love and affection here, but little emotionalizing. How many Americans get to work with animals like this in public view in a spectacular setting every day? The horses are valued and loved working partners, they are not pets, they are not granted human rights. It is a respectful and affectionate relationship, and it is, in many ways, shocking that it is the subject of so much hostility and controversy rather than approval and appreciation.
What can you tell from a photo? Not everything, but a lot. I look as closely at the horses as I do at the people, and animals have no guile, they do not know how to lie about trust.
The connection between the horses and the drivers is quite visible, it is generally palpable and powerful – the horses actually remind me of the best bred, calmest and most congenial Labrador Retrievers, animals who are also bred to work with individual human beings, and need to do so to be calm and healthy. If Lenore was a carriage horse, this would be her joy and focus.
Stephen Malone has emerged as one of the leaders of the fight to keep the carriage horses in New York, he is a big, savvy, genial and very candid man. He has helped the trade become more transparent and media savvy, more responsive to the relentless and very well-funded attacks on them. He is as comfortable chatting up a City Council member, I gather, as he is charming tourists in Central Park. He fusses over Tyson constantly, brushing and grooming him, giving him oats, stopping at the parks’ water fountains, even shining his hooves so they will look sharp. He is very proud of his horse, you can see it in his face.
And Stephen – his father Paddy came to New York from Norther Ireland in the 60’s and worked as a groom and stable boy and then up through the ranks to become a legendary driver and stable owner – makes sure to look sharp himself. Paddy wore a suit and tie every day he rode a carriage, and Stephen has worn a tuxedo, top hat and tails every day for 17 years. “This horse is my livelihood,” he said, “you bet I take good care of him, I want him to look as sharp as I do, we owe it to the people who see us and ride in my carriage.”
Malone has this big broad Irish face and I always have this sense when I see him that he could have as easily been a fireman or cop, I imagine he would have been one of the first ones into the World Trade Center Towers, he does not run from trouble. I told Maria when I met Steve that if I am ever in trouble, I would love him to be my First Responder.
The story of these drivers is a very American story, perhaps the oldest – it is the story of immigration, opportunity, family dreams passed on, and of a trade that gave work to scores of poor and very hard working people for generations.
I honestly do not think of myself as a big player in New York City politics, and I am not, but it is very meaningful to have so many of the drivers come up to me and talk about my writing and think about it so much. One of them said he has come to see his own work in a different way from reading the blog. A great thing for a writer to see and hear.
I talked to a dozen drivers, asked them about the move to ban them, about the “cruelty-free” electric cars (I see it is not just animals who are anthropomorphized in New York City, I didn’t know automobiles could be cruel). I liked Malone a lot, he is a very shrewd man and a passionate lover of the carriage trade, he is a formidable adversary. I would not bet against him. I have a lot to write about my visit, I hope to return in a week or so, I am pretty worn out tonight, so I’ll get to it in the morning, I want to think about it just a bit. I am eager to share some of my portraits of the carriage drivers. This story is about horses, but even more so about the people who own and drive them, it needs to be told.
