My granddad and I had a lot in common, including an uncanny proximity to famous race tracks
Some of my earliest and best memories are of my grandfather, whose kindness and sense of humor made a distinct impression on me at a very young age. Growing up, I recognized a lot of similarities and personality traits we shared, and I’m sure that’s part of what made our relationship so special. He’s been gone now for nearly 37 years, but I still find myself reminded of him daily, which is a blessing.
Vernon Franklin Baxley was born in Charles Town, WV in 1907, and was already an old man by the time I came along. In fact, he was the oldest person I knew, and that alone fascinated me and likely sparked my interest in history. I could ask him about life in those earlier years, and he would happily describe it from firsthand experience. I remember playing a game of penny-ante poker with him at their Burtonsville apartment, which we frequently did while my parents took my grandmother shopping. During the game, I asked him what his favorite decade had been, since he’d literally been around for all of them that century. He thought about it for just a second before replying, “The thirties.” I had already learned about the Great Depression by that point, so I questioned his choice—was that really his favorite time in all those years, when so many people had lost so much? “Well, we never had anything to start with,” he explained, “so we didn’t lose anything.”
To the contrary, the 1930s were both a boom time and a new beginning for the man who would become my grandfather. He made the decision to leave Charles Town, where the only work to be found was at the Goetz Harness and Collar Factory in nearby Ranson. He set off—on foot—for a new life in Washington, DC. Over a bag of candy, he met Mary Winter, and the rest was history. My grandparents went on to have 10 children between 1935 and 1954.
As an adult, and long after my grandfather had passed, I began spending some time researching his side of the family. In particular, I enjoyed exploring Charles Town and trying to envision what his early life had been like. One of the first things that struck me was the close proximity of his family’s home to Charles Town Race Track. We’re talking about 3,000 feet between the property edges. To say that it was within walking distance would be an understatement (especially for a man who literally walked from West Virginia to Washington, DC).
Looking at Google aerial views of Charles Town, the race track is the first thing to catch your eye. It’s very much like Laurel Park in that it instantly becomes the primary landmark from which everything else can be identified. Thanks to U.S. Census records, I am aware of at least one address where my grandfather lived as a child. On January 3, 1920, the Census enumerator turned north off 2nd Avenue onto Buchanan Street, and the Baxley family was the first she interviewed. My granddad, Vernon, was a couple months shy of his 13th birthday when he was living there with five siblings and their parents—including his father, James, who never learned to read or write. (Due in large part to his having started working so early at that aforementioned harness factory).
The location of the Baxley home in 1920 in proximity to Charles Town Race Track is strikingly similar to the distance of my own childhood home from Laurel Park race course. Steward Manor Apartments, just east of the race track at the intersection of Routes 198 and 197, is where I was living when I was 13 years old. It’s purely coincidental, of course, but I’d love to think that there’s some deeper cosmic connection... Something about having thoroughbred racing in our DNA simply by sake of geography.
But truth be told, neither my granddad or I spent much time at either track growing up. He had a lifelong affinity for carnival carousels—the “hobby horses,” as he called them—which were in their golden age when he was a boy. As for myself, I spent more time playing H.O.R.S.E. on the Steward Manor basketball court than I ever did watching the horses race just up the street.
In fact, I could probably count on one hand the number of times my dad and I visited the track when I was a teenager. Ironically, I actually had very good luck there despite not having a clue as to which horses I should’ve been betting on. On at least a couple of occasions in the mid-1980s, I won on the very first bet. That happened again last November at our first Voices of Laurel Day at the Races event, too—I won using my complementary voucher! But I digress.
I remember one childhood visit to Charles Town. It was primarily a trip to explore nearby Harpers Ferry, but my granddad came along to see his old stomping grounds. One of his siblings was still living in the area at that time, and we stopped by to pay a quick visit. And when I say quick, I mean quick. I don’t think we even went inside. I remember being on the porch, him knocking on the door, a flurry of smiles, laughs, and hugs all around, and then my granddad saying “Welp, we’ve seen ‘em. Let’s go.” In hindsight, his approach of leaving not long after arriving was very much like me after winning that first race—I’ve done it, now I’m ready to go home. Must be that thoroughbred racing in our DNA.
Richard Friend is a founding member of The Laurel History Boys, and creator of LostLaurel.com.
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