We were great friends in junior high school. Bill and I frequently hung around together after school. We did what adolescent boys usually do. We talked about all kinds of mysterious things, such as stars, machines and girls.

Bill was a mild mannered guy and kind of shy around girls (and so was I). His dad ran a garage and so had all kinds of mechanical things at his disposal. Bill’s dad or maybe his brother built a little car for him before I knew him. It had all the essentials of a self-propelled vehicle, just right for sidewalk travel. It had four wheels, a real steering wheel, a seat, and a motor powered by a car battery. It looked pretty neat to me. I was a little envious. Ever since I was big enough to read pictures in the Christmas edition of the Sears Roebuck catalog I had wished for a red truck to ride in, even though I’d have to pedal it to make it go.

Lately Bill had found a new hobby. The Louisville Courier Journal printed all the horseracing results from around the country. The paper was distributed throughout Kentucky and elsewhere. Bill had access to the paper and began following the races. I recon he learned the names and records of most of the horses and jockeys in the racing circuit. Soon racing became his favorite subject of conversation. No matter what we talked about, the conversation would include some report from the racing world.

“Sometimes I help my daddy work his garden, hoeing weeds and stuff like that. He raised some pole beans and I was amazed at how long the were,” I said one day when we were talking about vegetables we liked to eat.

“I like String Bean in the third race at Pimlico tomorrow,” he replied, “He’s a long shot but he could win. His odds are so good I’m picking him to place.”

A couple of days later I saw Bill and he was delighted to tell me, “String Bean came through for me. He didn’t win but he was in the money. He placed only half a length behind the winner; paid $16 to place.”

“Now how does that work? He didn’t win but he paid off,” I asked and he was more than happy to teach me.

“The winner pays all bets on him whether to win, place or show. If you bet on the second place horse to win, you lose, but if you bet on him to place you win. If you bet on him to show you win, only less than had you had bet on him to place. Understand?”

“I believe I do. The third place horse pays only if you bet on him to show.”

“I don’t usually bet on my picks to win but to place or show,” Bill said, “I pretend like I’m betting real money. I like to parlay my bets. I pick a bet in the first race and if I win I put my winnings on my pick in the second race and so on for all eight races. If all my picks win I win a lot of money.”

Actually we talked about things other than racing. Now and then however Bill would gleefully say things such as, “I won $300 yesterday.”

“You’re getting pretty good at this, or else pretty lucky.”

May would soon come and that meant the running of the Kentucky Derby. Bill announced that he and his big brother would go. He would get to see some of the horses he’d been reading about and watch the running of the Derby.

“Who’s your favorite in the Derby,” I asked.

“Bold Venture. I’ve saving my money so I can make some real bets at the track.”

“Good luck, buddy; hope you win a pocket full.”

After he got back I saw Bill at school. He looked a bit glum. I thought maybe he hadn’t got enough sleep on account of his trip to Louisville. I spoke to him cheerfully, I thought. “Hello Bill! How was the Derby? I see your favorite, Bold Venture won.”

“Yeah, everybody’s favorite. He ran a beautiful race all right,” he said.

“How much did you win?”

“Nothing. I lost $20.”

“That’s a lot of money to lose in the middle of a depression,” I said.

He didn’t say more about his day at the races. For the next two weeks he didn’t mention horses. He talked about everything else except horses. I thought his loss had destroyed his hobby. Then one day I heard a familiar refrain.

“Guess what! I made $150 yesterday on my parlay. Play money of course.”

I was glad to hear that Bill’s racetrack loss put only a temporary dent in Bill’s confidence.