Doc's Gold Mine

The five-year boom that had made gold mines out of U.S. horse tracks was petering out. Back in the barns, the "hot-walkers" and exercise boys joked about it: "The suckers [race-trackese for the betting public] are running out of money." Even touting was getting tough.

Florida's Tropical Park had cut purses and pared expenses to keep from finishing its recent meeting in the red. Seeing the handwriting on the wall, rich and prosperous Pimlico announced that the value of the Preakness would be lowered from $100,000 to $75,000 this spring; Belmont Park had done likewise with its Belmont Stakes (leaving the Kentucky Derby the only $100,000 gem in racing's Triple Crown).

At California's Santa Anita, richest and most prosperous of all, attendance in the first 20 days of the winter season was down 24.4% from last year (partly as a result of bad weather); betting had slumped $10,459,016. Said one horseman last week, casting a cold eye over the thin turnout: "This is more like it. Racing was getting to be a honky-tonk--too many people."

Pride in Their Park. In a glassed-in cupola atop Santa Anita's grandstand sat a man with a different view. Stone-faced Charles H. Strub (rhymes with rube), 64, built Santa Anita, bossed it, drew down $334,000 in salary and bonuses in 1948. Last week, he put on his usual $50,000 weekend race, the Santa Margarita Handicap (won by Lurline B, a 30-to-1 shot). This week, the first of his three $100,000 races, the Maturity Stakes, would be run.

A man who started out as a dentist (one of those who advertised), "Doc" Strub works on the theory that nothing should be painful for his patrons. There is not one "Keep Off the Grass" sign at Santa Anita. Says Doc, who fancies himself as public benefactor and administrator: "Our customers appreciate beauty enough not to destroy it. They have pride in their park." For those who like to sunbathe, Doc provides benches.

Before he opened Santa Anita 15 years ago, Strub sent aides to scout the eastern tracks and report in detail what was wrong with them. The findings: poor parking facilities, not enough elbow room in grandstands. So Doc ordered up the largest parking lot in the U.S. (215 acres of it) and an ultra-roomy grandstand. His attendants, ushers and gatemen were drilled in courtesy. Strub even handed out kindly advice to the uninitiated bettor, posted such warnings as: "Bet only what you can afford to lose, not what you hope to win."

Nipped in the Bud. Like a master switchman in a freight yard, he bossed the whole Santa Anita operation from his cupola, rigged up a battery of telephones to connect him with every corner of the enclosure. It has worked, so far. Original stockholders, who paid $5,000 a share, have been offered $62,500 for them. Besides paying out whopping dividends, Doc plows great chunks of money back into his gold mine--giving paying guests more comfort, beauty, entertainment and $100,000 races. This winter, at a cost of $400,000, he opened a fancy new lounge and restaurant, a kind of clubhouse for the general-admission trade.

Last week Doc had more than the end of the boom to worry him. California's Governor Earl Warren said the state was not getting a fair share of racing's "fabulous" profits (the state now gets from 4 to 6-c- of every dollar bet at California horse tracks and would like to get more; Santa Anita's cut of the betting runs from 7% to 9%). But if Doc was alarmed he showed no sign of it. His greatest disappointment seemed to be that injured Citation, the wonder horse, would not run at Santa Anita this winter. The snow and weather had been doublecrossing Doc, nipping his hundreds of thousands of marigolds in the bud. Was he planning any economy moves? Not Doc Strub. Said he: "I'm not planning any cuts, this season or the next."

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