Bing Crosby had a love of many things, and one of his great loves was his love of animals. He was especially found of horses and dogs as these photos show...
This is a one stop place to find news and stories about the greatest singer of all-time, Bing Crosby. From his days with Paul Whiteman to his final performances in 1977, we will examine this remarkable entertainer's life and times!
Showing posts with label horses. Show all posts
Showing posts with label horses. Show all posts
Sunday, February 1, 2026
Sunday, September 28, 2025
FLASHBACK: 1938
August 12, 1938 - Bing Crosby’s horse Ligaroti takes on the legendary Seabiscuit at Del Mar! Co-owned by Bing himself, Ligaroti gave the champ a run for his money in one of the most talked-about races of the decade...
Monday, March 14, 2016
PHOTOS OF THE DAY: BING AND HORSES
Bing Crosby had so many hobbies and interests. I feel he had more fun with his hobbies that he did entertaining and making a living. One of his keen interests was horses. He found Del Mar Racetrack in 1937, and for the next 40 years his love of horses were widely known. Here are some pictures of Bing with some beautiful horses...
Thursday, April 19, 2012
DEL MAR RACETRACK TURNS 75
On the sunny afternoon of July 3, 1937, the original laid-back Californian himself, Bing Crosby, stood at a turnstile collecting tickets for his new seaside racetrack, Del Mar. Having been bitten by the racing bug, Crosby and a bunch of his Hollywood buddies (among them Pat O’Brien, Oliver Hardy and Gary Cooper) hatched the idea for a horse palace by the ocean where you could play all day, party all night and leave the cares of the world behind.
The group’s first meeting took place at Warner Brothers studios in Burbank where the Del Mar Turf Club was formed. From the start, Hollywood fingerprints were all over this racetrack.
That first day, more than 15,000 came for a look. Word got around fast because there were more than 18,000 on hand by the second afternoon. The Hollywood connection continued for decades at Del Mar (halted only by a three-year shutdown of racing during World War II) with a parade of show biz personalities including Mickey Rooney, Ava Gardner, Dick Powell, Joan Blondell, Edward G. Robinson, Red Skelton, Lucille Ball, Desi Arnaz and Jimmy Durante.
The Santa Fe Railroad launched a special racetrack train from Los Angeles to Del Mar that carried Hollywood stars and, at times, late-running horses. The party started on the train. If the train was late, the races were delayed. It became a Del Mar tradition for the fans in the grandstand to start cheering when they saw the train turn the bend just before the station.
Bing’s relaxed attitude about life carried over to the racetrack. The track’s longtime publicist Eddie Read was quoted as saying: “This is where nobody’s in a hurry but the horses.”
Out on the track itself, Del Mar had its share of magic moments. Drawing on its Hollywood contacts, the plant was the first to make use of the photo-finish camera at its inaugural meet in 1937. The camera, an invention of Lorenzo del Riccio, an optical engineer who headed Paramount Pictures’ technical research laboratories, was designed to produce a strip photograph of the passage of time at a fixed point – in this case the finish line. Today, just about every racetrack in the world uses the technology.
In 1938, Del Mar hosted the historic match race between the American handicap champion Seabiscuit and the South American import Ligaroti. The race pitted Bing Crosby and Lin Howard against Lin’s father, Charles S. Howard, famous owner of Seabiscuit and a director of the Del Mar Turf Club. It was a $25,000 winner-take-all contest that drew 20,000 to the track and was heard coast-to-coast on the NBC radio network. At the end of a ferocious battle that saw the horses trading head bobs and the riders trading whip slashes, “The Biscuit” won by a nose in 1:49, breaking the nine-furlong track record by an amazing four seconds.
In recent times the track has become a fertile proving ground for many of the nation’s best horses and horsemen. Champions race at Del Mar each summer and they are trained by Hall of Fame conditioners with famous names like Ron McAnally, Richard Mandella, Neil Drysdale and Bob Baffert and their world-class jockey colony is led by stars like Hall of Famer Mike Smith, Garrett Gomez, Alex Solis and Rafael Bejarano.
SOURCE
The group’s first meeting took place at Warner Brothers studios in Burbank where the Del Mar Turf Club was formed. From the start, Hollywood fingerprints were all over this racetrack.
That first day, more than 15,000 came for a look. Word got around fast because there were more than 18,000 on hand by the second afternoon. The Hollywood connection continued for decades at Del Mar (halted only by a three-year shutdown of racing during World War II) with a parade of show biz personalities including Mickey Rooney, Ava Gardner, Dick Powell, Joan Blondell, Edward G. Robinson, Red Skelton, Lucille Ball, Desi Arnaz and Jimmy Durante.
The Santa Fe Railroad launched a special racetrack train from Los Angeles to Del Mar that carried Hollywood stars and, at times, late-running horses. The party started on the train. If the train was late, the races were delayed. It became a Del Mar tradition for the fans in the grandstand to start cheering when they saw the train turn the bend just before the station.
Bing’s relaxed attitude about life carried over to the racetrack. The track’s longtime publicist Eddie Read was quoted as saying: “This is where nobody’s in a hurry but the horses.”
Out on the track itself, Del Mar had its share of magic moments. Drawing on its Hollywood contacts, the plant was the first to make use of the photo-finish camera at its inaugural meet in 1937. The camera, an invention of Lorenzo del Riccio, an optical engineer who headed Paramount Pictures’ technical research laboratories, was designed to produce a strip photograph of the passage of time at a fixed point – in this case the finish line. Today, just about every racetrack in the world uses the technology.
In 1938, Del Mar hosted the historic match race between the American handicap champion Seabiscuit and the South American import Ligaroti. The race pitted Bing Crosby and Lin Howard against Lin’s father, Charles S. Howard, famous owner of Seabiscuit and a director of the Del Mar Turf Club. It was a $25,000 winner-take-all contest that drew 20,000 to the track and was heard coast-to-coast on the NBC radio network. At the end of a ferocious battle that saw the horses trading head bobs and the riders trading whip slashes, “The Biscuit” won by a nose in 1:49, breaking the nine-furlong track record by an amazing four seconds.
In recent times the track has become a fertile proving ground for many of the nation’s best horses and horsemen. Champions race at Del Mar each summer and they are trained by Hall of Fame conditioners with famous names like Ron McAnally, Richard Mandella, Neil Drysdale and Bob Baffert and their world-class jockey colony is led by stars like Hall of Famer Mike Smith, Garrett Gomez, Alex Solis and Rafael Bejarano.
SOURCE
Thursday, July 21, 2011
RECORD OPENING AT DEL MAR
They took planes, they took trains, they took cars -- especially limousines, lots of limos. Some of them probably came on rollerblades and skateboards. They heard Bing Crosby croon about where the turf meets the surf, and I'm sure they downed plenty of cold refreshments.
Del Mar's opening day crowd on Wednesday totalled 46,588, an all-time record that topped last year's previous high of 45,309. They bet, too, contributing toward total handle of $13,234,590, a 6.2% increase from the $12,461,600 bet in 2010.
The 72nd season of summer racing at Del Mar got started without me this year, my first opening-day pass in several years. There were some other regulars not attending opening day. No boycott or anything like that; more a matter of "been there, done that." Seen the funny, sometimes elegant hats, the beautiful women, the sports celebrities, the people more interested in being seen than seeing the races. But it's all part of what makes opening day at Del Mar so special.
It's not quite the place that's so crowded no one goes there anymore, but it's not a place for grumpy old men like me. That's why the Paulick Report sent out reinforcements to take my place this year in the form of my partner Brad Cummings and contributor John Scheinman, neither of whom has attended Del Mar previously. I'm looking forward to the video diary of their experiences at the seaside track and will be interested to see if their eyeballs popped out because of the attractive scenery.
As for me, I'll be there for the second week, when the form is a bit more established and the atmosphere is not quite so intense...
SOURCE
Del Mar's opening day crowd on Wednesday totalled 46,588, an all-time record that topped last year's previous high of 45,309. They bet, too, contributing toward total handle of $13,234,590, a 6.2% increase from the $12,461,600 bet in 2010.
The 72nd season of summer racing at Del Mar got started without me this year, my first opening-day pass in several years. There were some other regulars not attending opening day. No boycott or anything like that; more a matter of "been there, done that." Seen the funny, sometimes elegant hats, the beautiful women, the sports celebrities, the people more interested in being seen than seeing the races. But it's all part of what makes opening day at Del Mar so special.
It's not quite the place that's so crowded no one goes there anymore, but it's not a place for grumpy old men like me. That's why the Paulick Report sent out reinforcements to take my place this year in the form of my partner Brad Cummings and contributor John Scheinman, neither of whom has attended Del Mar previously. I'm looking forward to the video diary of their experiences at the seaside track and will be interested to see if their eyeballs popped out because of the attractive scenery.
As for me, I'll be there for the second week, when the form is a bit more established and the atmosphere is not quite so intense...
SOURCE
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
BING CROSBY AND SARATOGA SPRINGS
Here is a little paragraph I found about Bing and his visits to the Saratoga Springs race track:
I’m Dreaming of Bing Crosby
by Augie Jordan
I remember when I was a kid, in 1939, I used to sell programs on the side of the United States Hotel. Right at the side door. I sold programs to Bing Crosby. Most of the time, he would have a fella come down and pick up the program. But there were a couple of occasions where he would pass by and get them himself. You might sell them for 15 cents, but he would give you a buck for three of them.
Bing Crosby takes his seat in a Saratoga box seat in August, 1937. Sittting with the famous crooner is Mrs. Charles Howard. Her husband was the owner of the legendary Seabiscuit.
There was this place called the Adelphi Grill, right next to the Rip Van Dam Hotel. A lot of celebrities used to go in there.
They had these great, big pastrami sandwiches and a big helping of potato salad for 75 cents. It was a nice spot.
Celeste Holm used to play at the Little Theater (which is located near the Hall of Springs by the Gideon Putnam). She came in one night and I told her she was my favorite actress.
She said to me, ‘I bet you say that to all the actresses.’ I said, ‘No, just to you.’ So she came over and gave me a kiss. ”
SOURCE
I’m Dreaming of Bing Crosby
by Augie Jordan
I remember when I was a kid, in 1939, I used to sell programs on the side of the United States Hotel. Right at the side door. I sold programs to Bing Crosby. Most of the time, he would have a fella come down and pick up the program. But there were a couple of occasions where he would pass by and get them himself. You might sell them for 15 cents, but he would give you a buck for three of them.
Bing Crosby takes his seat in a Saratoga box seat in August, 1937. Sittting with the famous crooner is Mrs. Charles Howard. Her husband was the owner of the legendary Seabiscuit.
There was this place called the Adelphi Grill, right next to the Rip Van Dam Hotel. A lot of celebrities used to go in there.
They had these great, big pastrami sandwiches and a big helping of potato salad for 75 cents. It was a nice spot.
Celeste Holm used to play at the Little Theater (which is located near the Hall of Springs by the Gideon Putnam). She came in one night and I told her she was my favorite actress.
She said to me, ‘I bet you say that to all the actresses.’ I said, ‘No, just to you.’ So she came over and gave me a kiss. ”
SOURCE
Thursday, May 26, 2011
BING AND TOMMY DUNCAN
Not a whole lot of Bing in this story, but it is interesting that Bing had a connection with even forgotten country singers...
Newswise — The late and legendary musician Bob Wills is the King of Western Swing — which Texas lawmakers this week declared Texas’ official music — but it’s time to pay homage to a lesser known fellow who helped Wills ascend to the throne, says a Baylor University researcher.
“You ask anybody, ‘Ever heard of Tommy Duncan?’ and you get dead silence,” said Curtis Callaway, a lecturer in journalism and media arts at Baylor. “You ask, `Ever heard of Bob Wills and the Texas Playboys?’ Immediately everyone raises their hands with excitement. I’ve done this in a room of 150 people. Well, who do you think was singing? Tommy Duncan was one of the best vocalists of the time.”
Callaway and half a dozen Baylor students are researching singer-songwriter Duncan of the band Bob Wills and his Texas Playboys for a documentary In the Shadow of the King — The Tommy Duncan Story. They are shooting videos of interviews with Duncan’s family, the founder of his fan club and musicians that played with him. The film, marking the 100th anniversary of Duncan’s birth, will include footage of the singer’s performances. He was born in Whitney, Texas, on Jan. 11, 1911.
None of this is to minimize singer-songwriter-showman Wills, Callaway said, lauding him as “an entertainer who knew the business and was a genius at it. He played the fiddle, he was the band leader, he was the marketer.”
Wills, with his high-pitched voice, perpetually chimed in with “AW, yeah,” “Ah-HAH,” and “Come in, Tommy,” but Duncan was the singer on virtually all the hits, Callaway said.
While Duncan is known among musicians rather than the public, his influence is felt as far away as Scotland. There, a band of his fans called Stretch Dawson and the Mending Hearts performs western swing, complete with bagpipes, Callaway said.
Western swing is a form of country that originated in the 1920s and 1930s, with an up-tempo dance sound incorporating jazz and sometimes ragtime, blues, zydeco — even gospel. Among Bob Wills’ hits were San Antonio Rose, Faded Love, Roly Poly and Bubbles in My Beer.
“Bing Crosby was a big fan of Tommy Duncan’s, and they were friends,” Callaway said. “They even had their horses stalled next to each other. They rode together and went to the races together.”
Duncan died in 1967 in a motel room in San Diego after a performance. The coroner’s report said he had a heart condition, and pills for the heart were found in the room.
Callaway, who has been financing the music project himself, said he hopes to obtain a grant or private funding. He has several photo albums of Duncan. Pam Townley of Whitney, founder of Tommy Duncan Fan Club, is lending him Duncan’s hat, boot, spurs and records that may not have been heard before.
Wills and Duncan “had their differences, and it was devastating when they broke up,” Callaway said. “Together, they were perfect. But Tommy Duncan never got the credit, and it’s time he did.”
SOURCE
Newswise — The late and legendary musician Bob Wills is the King of Western Swing — which Texas lawmakers this week declared Texas’ official music — but it’s time to pay homage to a lesser known fellow who helped Wills ascend to the throne, says a Baylor University researcher.
“You ask anybody, ‘Ever heard of Tommy Duncan?’ and you get dead silence,” said Curtis Callaway, a lecturer in journalism and media arts at Baylor. “You ask, `Ever heard of Bob Wills and the Texas Playboys?’ Immediately everyone raises their hands with excitement. I’ve done this in a room of 150 people. Well, who do you think was singing? Tommy Duncan was one of the best vocalists of the time.”
Callaway and half a dozen Baylor students are researching singer-songwriter Duncan of the band Bob Wills and his Texas Playboys for a documentary In the Shadow of the King — The Tommy Duncan Story. They are shooting videos of interviews with Duncan’s family, the founder of his fan club and musicians that played with him. The film, marking the 100th anniversary of Duncan’s birth, will include footage of the singer’s performances. He was born in Whitney, Texas, on Jan. 11, 1911.
None of this is to minimize singer-songwriter-showman Wills, Callaway said, lauding him as “an entertainer who knew the business and was a genius at it. He played the fiddle, he was the band leader, he was the marketer.”
Wills, with his high-pitched voice, perpetually chimed in with “AW, yeah,” “Ah-HAH,” and “Come in, Tommy,” but Duncan was the singer on virtually all the hits, Callaway said.
While Duncan is known among musicians rather than the public, his influence is felt as far away as Scotland. There, a band of his fans called Stretch Dawson and the Mending Hearts performs western swing, complete with bagpipes, Callaway said.
Western swing is a form of country that originated in the 1920s and 1930s, with an up-tempo dance sound incorporating jazz and sometimes ragtime, blues, zydeco — even gospel. Among Bob Wills’ hits were San Antonio Rose, Faded Love, Roly Poly and Bubbles in My Beer.
“Bing Crosby was a big fan of Tommy Duncan’s, and they were friends,” Callaway said. “They even had their horses stalled next to each other. They rode together and went to the races together.”
Duncan died in 1967 in a motel room in San Diego after a performance. The coroner’s report said he had a heart condition, and pills for the heart were found in the room.
Callaway, who has been financing the music project himself, said he hopes to obtain a grant or private funding. He has several photo albums of Duncan. Pam Townley of Whitney, founder of Tommy Duncan Fan Club, is lending him Duncan’s hat, boot, spurs and records that may not have been heard before.
Wills and Duncan “had their differences, and it was devastating when they broke up,” Callaway said. “Together, they were perfect. But Tommy Duncan never got the credit, and it’s time he did.”
SOURCE
Friday, May 6, 2011
BING AND DEL MAR
The best seat in the house at Del Mar racetrack, 20 miles north of San Diego, is a wooden bench inside the clubhouse gate, under a shade tree and beside a gurgling fountain. That's where I found the former jockey Larry Gilligan one Thursday afternoon. His hands folded across a well-tailored sport jacket, he'd settled in to watch a parade of women, young and old, glide past in their summer finest. Equally resplendent (though less meaningful to Gilligan) were the gentlemen in suit jackets and colorful ties walking beside them, for the track's Turf Club is perhaps the only restaurant in all of Southern California where semiformal attire is required to get lunch.
Del Mar's seven-week meeting each July to September won't usually feature the nation's tip-top horses or jockeys; those are camped out across the country in Saratoga Springs, New York, where the milling crowds are postmillennium sloppy in T-shirts and shorts. It doesn't attract the most fervent gamblers, who favor Hollywood Park up the freeway, if not the glow of a computer screen in their basement. But Del Mar is one of the few tracks left where horse racing still feels glamorous.
Del Mar's grandstand was rebuilt in the early 1990s and amenities have been updated since, but the track has the same enticing languor—a sense that, as the late racing publicist Eddie Read put it, "nobody is in a hurry but the horses"—as it did when cofounder Bing Crosby, wearing a yachtsman's cap and smoking his trademark pipe, opened its gates in 1937. "I find the experience incomparable," says Andrew Beyer, the Washington Post's turf writer, who can't resist the occasional cross-country jaunt for a week beneath the palm trees. "I love the weather, the beautiful women, the comfort of the grandstand. There's just nowhere more fun to spend a day at the races."
Plenty of racing fans seem to share Beyer's sentiments. Despite the sport's drooping ticket sales, Del Mar's attendance has grown by 25 percent over the past decade. Last summer's Opening Day crowd of 45,309 was its largest in history, and throngs of more than 30,000 are not uncommon on weekends. Even then, it still manages to feel more like someone's fabulous outdoor wedding reception than a typical sports event. "It's an aura that these people bring with them," says Trevor Denman, who has served as the track announcer at Del Mar for more than a quarter-century. "The majority are on vacation, and they have this happy atmosphere about them. It's totally different from any other racetrack."
Del Mar's executives believe they've engineered this miraculous popularity with modern marketing, a Friday concert series that attracts a younger demographic, signature drinks, all of that. I'm not so sure. Plenty of storied tracks haven taken a similar approach of promoting everything but the actual racing, yet apart from events such as the Triple Crown races and the Breeders' Cup, attendance at many of them remains in a death spiral. One problem is that wagering, which once required actually showing up at the betting window, has become too accessible. Notes Beyer: "When you can watch the races live from your living room and bang in your bets on the computer, the convenience is much more desirable than the hassle and expense of going out to the track."
It takes a special ambience to overcome that. Standing by the immaculate grass oval of Del Mar's paddock on a perfect summer afternoon, I couldn't help but think that nothing sells horse racing so much as the horses. Every one that strutted past seemed ready to step on the track and challenge Seabiscuit (who nosed out Ligaroti in a 1938 winner-take-all race here that captivated a live national radio audience). "The good ones know they're good," says Denman. "They seem to say, 'Let me loose, I'll show you what I can do.' When you see that in an athlete, whether an animal or a man, it's an amazing thing." And when you don't have to worry about whether they're secretly on steroids, or cringe when they fumble their way through a Gatorade ad, it's that much better.
In fact, much about my two-day visit reminded me of the way sports used to be, before excessive packaging and special effects made the experience of attending an event feel very much like watching it on television, only in less comfortable chairs. Part of that is the nature of horse racing, but a lot is the nature of Del Mar. Ad signage is kept to a discreet minimum. And it doesn't hurt that people dress up. It reminded me of black-and-white photos of baseball crowds from the '40s, or the scene in Billy Bathgate when the surpassingly elegant Nicole Kidman visits Saratoga.
Instead of the pounding beat of Megadeth, or whatever it is that blasts from the sound systems in stadiums and arenas these days, I almost felt like I could hear Crosby crooning off in the distance. Wait, it actually was Crosby. The track begins each racing day with his reedy rendition of its iconic theme. "There's a smile on every face, and a winner in each race," he sings, "where the turf meets the surf at Del Mar."
SOURCE
Del Mar's seven-week meeting each July to September won't usually feature the nation's tip-top horses or jockeys; those are camped out across the country in Saratoga Springs, New York, where the milling crowds are postmillennium sloppy in T-shirts and shorts. It doesn't attract the most fervent gamblers, who favor Hollywood Park up the freeway, if not the glow of a computer screen in their basement. But Del Mar is one of the few tracks left where horse racing still feels glamorous.
Del Mar's grandstand was rebuilt in the early 1990s and amenities have been updated since, but the track has the same enticing languor—a sense that, as the late racing publicist Eddie Read put it, "nobody is in a hurry but the horses"—as it did when cofounder Bing Crosby, wearing a yachtsman's cap and smoking his trademark pipe, opened its gates in 1937. "I find the experience incomparable," says Andrew Beyer, the Washington Post's turf writer, who can't resist the occasional cross-country jaunt for a week beneath the palm trees. "I love the weather, the beautiful women, the comfort of the grandstand. There's just nowhere more fun to spend a day at the races."
Plenty of racing fans seem to share Beyer's sentiments. Despite the sport's drooping ticket sales, Del Mar's attendance has grown by 25 percent over the past decade. Last summer's Opening Day crowd of 45,309 was its largest in history, and throngs of more than 30,000 are not uncommon on weekends. Even then, it still manages to feel more like someone's fabulous outdoor wedding reception than a typical sports event. "It's an aura that these people bring with them," says Trevor Denman, who has served as the track announcer at Del Mar for more than a quarter-century. "The majority are on vacation, and they have this happy atmosphere about them. It's totally different from any other racetrack."
Del Mar's executives believe they've engineered this miraculous popularity with modern marketing, a Friday concert series that attracts a younger demographic, signature drinks, all of that. I'm not so sure. Plenty of storied tracks haven taken a similar approach of promoting everything but the actual racing, yet apart from events such as the Triple Crown races and the Breeders' Cup, attendance at many of them remains in a death spiral. One problem is that wagering, which once required actually showing up at the betting window, has become too accessible. Notes Beyer: "When you can watch the races live from your living room and bang in your bets on the computer, the convenience is much more desirable than the hassle and expense of going out to the track."
It takes a special ambience to overcome that. Standing by the immaculate grass oval of Del Mar's paddock on a perfect summer afternoon, I couldn't help but think that nothing sells horse racing so much as the horses. Every one that strutted past seemed ready to step on the track and challenge Seabiscuit (who nosed out Ligaroti in a 1938 winner-take-all race here that captivated a live national radio audience). "The good ones know they're good," says Denman. "They seem to say, 'Let me loose, I'll show you what I can do.' When you see that in an athlete, whether an animal or a man, it's an amazing thing." And when you don't have to worry about whether they're secretly on steroids, or cringe when they fumble their way through a Gatorade ad, it's that much better.
In fact, much about my two-day visit reminded me of the way sports used to be, before excessive packaging and special effects made the experience of attending an event feel very much like watching it on television, only in less comfortable chairs. Part of that is the nature of horse racing, but a lot is the nature of Del Mar. Ad signage is kept to a discreet minimum. And it doesn't hurt that people dress up. It reminded me of black-and-white photos of baseball crowds from the '40s, or the scene in Billy Bathgate when the surpassingly elegant Nicole Kidman visits Saratoga.
Instead of the pounding beat of Megadeth, or whatever it is that blasts from the sound systems in stadiums and arenas these days, I almost felt like I could hear Crosby crooning off in the distance. Wait, it actually was Crosby. The track begins each racing day with his reedy rendition of its iconic theme. "There's a smile on every face, and a winner in each race," he sings, "where the turf meets the surf at Del Mar."
SOURCE
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