Thirty Tons a Day

In spite of this book's title, there are no horses to speak of in "Thirty Tons a Day." Self-proclaimed "hustler," Bill Veeck, Jr., who has been called the greatest public relations man and promotional genius the game of baseball has ever seen, decided to take a detour into the Thoroughbred business by purchasing Suffolk Downs, a run-down racetrack near Boston. This book is his story of how he renovated the racetrack, starting in 1969, then took on the legislative, judicial, and executive branches of the Massachusetts government to haul Thoroughbred racing, kicking and screaming out of the Dark Ages--or more accurately out of the Age of Puritans.He succeeded in his battles against the government (thanks mainly to the judicial branch) but was finally done in by his own holding company, Realty Equities. The bittersweet final chapter describes the farewell party he threw for his friends who had joined him in his two-year, and ultimately bankrupted racetrack venture. It was a wild two-year ride and Veeck is a very colorful character, even when he is talking about holding companies and Boston politics. During his tenure at the track, he had the pay toilets and artificial flowers banned from the facility, staged chariot races and livestock giveaways (Brahma bulls and a Thoroughbred). There was also going to be a reenactment of Custer's last stand, which alas was rained out (Veeck didn't have much luck with the weather during his tenure). He also inaugurated what was then the richest turf race in the world, the Yankee Gold Cup, won by the French horse, Jean-Pierre (so there are a few horses mentioned in this book, just not as many as you might be led to believe by the title).My biggest disappointment was that Veeck didn't talk at all about the day-to-day management of the stables. This is a book about high finance, dirty politics, and really crazy ways of drawing crowds to a racetrack. I think the National Thoroughbred Racing Association (NTRA) could learn a great deal from Bill Veeck if only they would cease their internal squabbling long enough to read "Thirty Tons a Day." I only wish he were still around to whack some sense into the Thoroughbred racing business.