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H. Allen Jerkens
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| photo by Adam Coglianese |
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He is perhaps the most universally respected trainer in the business, a member of the Hall of Fame since 1975, and the architect of some of the greatest upsets in the sport’s history. He is happy to be called “The Chief,” far less so to be called “The Giant Killer,” and certainly no one calls him by his given first name, Harry.
But there are four people to whom Allen Jerkens means something more and who get to call him something else. Even beyond being their role model and their inspiration, to Al, Steve, Julie and Jimmy, Allen Jerkens will always be the world’s greatest Dad.
“We all,” said Julie, now a fifth-grade teacher in Indian Harbor Beach, Fla., “think the world of him.”
While Jerkens, who took out his trainer’s license in 1950, was successful from the start, growing up as the child of a thoroughbred trainer did not make for a typical Long Island childhood. August was spent in Saratoga, while December through early March meant relocating to Florida for three months. Add on the long hours and the seven-day work week, and there was little time for volunteering for suburban pastimes as a scout leader or a baseball coach.
But Jerkens children say they never felt deprived; if anything, they saw their lives enriched by the experiences they had.
“In 1966, he bought a place in Huntington called White Oak Farm,” said Jimmy, who would become a trainer, as did Steve. “It had six stalls, and he would bring horses there from the track to work with. We also had a palomino pony named Little John, and friends would always be coming over for rides. You could look out the window of the elementary school and see the farm – the other kids were envious.”
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| Jimmy, Al, Julie, and Steve Jerkens , seen here polishing trophies in the 1960's, think the world of their father, Hall of Fame trainer Allen Jerkens |
Summers and vacations were spent working at the barn, and the lengthy commute from Suffolk County was an opportunity for conversation, and not just about horse racing.
“We’d stop at the little diner on Route 110 and get orange juice and toast, and then drive to the track,” said Steve. “Art Rust Jr. was one of the first radio sports guys, and we’d listen to that and talk about the players and the teams. My older brother Al [now a sportscaster in Tulsa, Okla.] was a big Yankees fan, but my father was more of a National League guy and he liked the Mets.”
Steve recalled a time before Sunday racing that his father took a group of kids to a New York Giants’ football game on a chilly afternoon.
“There were four of us, and soon after we got to our seats, my father excused himself,” said Steve, a trainer. “When he came back, without asking, he had bought each of us a sweatshirt, because he thought we might be cold. He was like that, always wondering how you were, health-wise, and trying to make sure you ate right.”
Given his work schedule, the times he was able to be part of his children’s daily lives, said Julie, were that much more special.
“I remember one time, when I was really little, I was on a field trip at a local park,” she said. “I looked up and here comes this big, strapping guy across the playground. He picked me up and put me on his shoulders – I had this tremendous smile on my face and I kept thinking, ‘He came to my field trip!’ I will never forget that.”
With Al and Julie coming to New York for Jimmy’s engagement party, all four were able to be with their dad, now 79 years old, on Father’s Day. It was a time for reflection, celebration, and giving thanks.
“You know, you look back, and we had a great childhood,” said Jimmy. “But if you ask me about him, what I’m proudest of, I have to say that he’s done everything while still being himself. He’s achieved great success, never taken a crumb out of anyone’s mouth, and helped so many people along the way. He doesn’t just bring out the best in horses -- he brings out the best in people, too.”
Happy Father’s Day, Chief. |
