How I Met Bob Hope at the Races
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One of the more exciting and memorable things about Thoroughbred racing is you never know who you will meet at the track or under the shedrow.
Growing up on the Jersey shore in the 1960s was as idyllic as it could get. Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons blasting on AM radio, the famous Max Ember’s hot dogs along the boardwalk and, of course, Monmouth Park — the track! It was a time of innocence and grace. (Well, the track and its patrons were graceful, I’m not so sure, in hindsight, about the innocence).