There’s something about an old man and an old horse that can’t be explained.
Old men like him are rare today. Men who are confident and comfortable that the simple truths they live by are whole and complete.
I was a young boy in the late forties, I’d guess no more than ten or eleven at the time. It was early autumn, still warm in the afternoons, but with the promise of chill in the night. Fall fair time in the town where I grew up. Time for picking and pickling, time for the tang of hot vinegar to greet me when I entered the back door of my home to see my mother working at a boiling canner. My father worked as he always did to try to fistfight a living for us all on that farm. There was never very much, sometimes not enough, but there were truths, simple truths that we never examined too closely. Some things just were.
It was a Monday afternoon when it all started for me. I stopped at the store on my way home from school. There was a jealously guarded dime in my hand. I had had a long debate with myself about what treat to buy. A decision I had agonized over all day, much to the dismay of my academic career. A candy bar or a pop…a terrible dilemma.
As I walked up the wooden steps into the store I saw it, a cheaply printed poster that leapt out at me. It grabbed me by the shirt and demanded my attention. Emblazoned on the handbill was an engraving of an impossibly huge and hairy man holding a singletree attached to a struggling horse. His image grinned out at me with supreme arrogance, his striped singlet bulged over muscles that defied description He had a handlebar mustache and wore a fez. “OMAR THE TURK!” It read, “STRONGEST MAN ALIVE” I stood awestruck at the picture of him effortlessly holding back a draught horse like those who used to work the fields around us. I was too young to have seen many, but there was still one that I knew of.
“OMAR THE TURK WILL DISPLAY BREATHTAKING FEATS OF SUPERHUMAN STRENGTH FOR ALL TO SEE! HE DEFIES ALL MEDICAL AND SCIENTIFIC EXPLANATION!! BE THERE ON SUNDAY WHEN OMAR THE TURK, WILL PIT HIS POWER AGAINST A WORKHORSE AND WIN!! A FEAT NEVER BEFORE SEEN ON THIS CONTINENT!!!
I gaped in wonder at the picture, the impossible image hypnotizing me. No man could possibly be that strong. My god, those horses had pulled plows and uprooted stumps, no man could hold one back, but there it was in gaudy black and white. Omar the Turk would appear at our fall fair on Sunday afternoon, he would do the impossible, and I’d be there to witness it. I forgot about the dime pressed in my palm, I forgot about the sugared treasures inside the store. I ran home to see my dad.
My father was a hard-working quiet man, and he seemed long past excitement and wonder, but he stood there and listened to my babbling excitement as I told him about Omar the Turk, the man who could hold back a horse. When I had finished, and stood there spent, panting, my eyes wide with wonder, I asked him…
“Jeez, do you think he can really do it dad?”
My dad chuckled and smiled at me. “Kid, no man can hold back a horse that doesn’t want to be held”
I wasn’t so sure. My dad knew a lot, but I had seen the poster.
The next day at school it seemed that every kid had seen that poster at the store, or at least one of the zillion that had been plastered on every vertical surface within ten miles. At recess and lunch we talked about it in hushed, reverent tones, and as the week drew on our imagined adventures of Omar the Turk grew until he was seventeen feet tall and the workhorse he could hold back had become three bull elephants. After all, he was the strongest man alive and defied medical and scientific explanation.
Saturday night was impossible for me. That afternoon I had been with my father at the feed store when I saw him. A tired Ford sedan drove by slowly with its horn blatting, its dusty sides painted white with gaudy red lettering announcing “OMAR THE TURK, WORLD’S STRONGEST MAN!!” When the car squeaked to a stop the door opened and he unfolded himself from inside. I swear I didn’t breathe the whole time I stood there. He was without a doubt the most monstrous man I had ever seen before or since. He stood and looked around with a mild sneer. I was awestruck, he was a human eclipse.
From the driver’s seat a man emerged, a smiling, dapper gent with a suit and hat. We hardly ever saw men with suits in town unless someone was getting married or dead, this fellow mopped his brow with a handkerchief and surveyed his surroundings like a benevolent carnivore. I guess I looked like a fish gasping on a riverbank, and his eye caught me almost immediately. He grinned at me and shouted loudly, gesturing grandly toward that hulking, human mountain surmounted by a red, tasseled fez “HEY BOY!!, SAY HELLO TO THE STRONGEST MAN ALIVE!” I staggered forward on shaking legs and drew up every ounce of my courage as I approached what could only be the great Omar the Turk. I gulped convulsively and held out a shaking right hand to him. He looked down at me from his dizzying height, and his sneer drew further across his face as the driver barked a laugh
“YOU WANNA LOSE THAT BOY??!!, HE’LL MASH YOUR HAND TO PASTE IF HE SHAKES IT, HE’S TORN THE ARMS OFF OF MEN THREE TIMES YOUR SIZE, JUST LOOK AND DON’T TOUCH BOY, NOW RUN ALONG”
I turned and fled back to my father.
My father finished loading the feed into the truck with a chuckle; he ruffled my hair and said, “He sure is a big one ain’t he boy”
I stood gawping at the giant and breathed “He can hold back a workhorse”
“HAH!” shouted Old Jack, our hired man, grinning, “Ain’t no man that strong lad, that’s all show”
The suited man heard what we were saying and strolled over. “ All show you say? So you don’t think my man here can do what he claims?” he leered.
“No man can hold back a horse.” Old Jack said confidently
“Well, if we can find the horse in this one-horse town we’ll show you different” he laughed.
“I got a horse” said Old Jack
“Well I’ll tell you what friend, you bring it out on Sunday and I’ll give you five dollars, if Omar Can’t hold it for ten seconds, I’ll give you fifty!”
“Done” Old Jack said, and walked away.
I knew Old Jack well. He was the hired man on our farm and lived in a shack behind our barn. He kept to himself mostly. He and his big mare had arrived one day long before looking for work and had never left.
She was nothing special to look at, for a Clydesdale. But that’s saying a lot. Clydesdales are colossal beasts; white and dark grey with huge hooves the size of platters. Jack’s mare lived in a spare stable in the barn, she earned her keep no doubt, she pulled logs and the stone boat. She had been around for as long as I could remember as had Jack. Most work was done with the tractor nowadays, but Jack never used it. He and the mare were one, she would work with no other and neither would he.
The next day dawned finally. All night I was wracked with excitement, I don’t remember if I slept or not. Sunday morning sped by in a blur of breakfast, chores and church. Finally we loaded into the Model T pickup that sputtered and groaned its way out to the fairgrounds.
A sort of pit had been dug and a railroad tie was set in place across it, dug into the end of the pit. A huge, wide leather belt affair lay beside it attached to a heavy chain. This was where it would all happen.
From down the street the curious hollow clopping sound of those great hooves heralded her arrival. The jingling of her traces made a rhythm and music all their own. Jack wore the work clothes he always did, heavy leather boots and blue Jeans with red suspenders, a plaid shirt and leather cap. He held the reins loosely in one hand and walked along behind her. The mare was much the same. Her well-worn trace chains jingled as they always did, her expression was of calm curiosity. She was brushed and clean, but then she always was, her mane was long but trimmed and combed and her tail as always had one braid down the center, but today sported a red bow for the occasion. Jack took far better care of her than he did of himself. Her ears were perked up and her gaze covered everything around her. It wasn’t often she was walked off the property, and she was clearly enjoying the outing. As she walked up to the pit she lowered her head to me so I could pat her neck, she cropped a bite of my cotton candy and tossed her head out of my reach where she munched it contentedly.
A crowd had gathered to await the arrival of Omar the Turk, it didn’t take long. The throng parted as he arrived, his head and shoulders visible above the sea of hats and bonnets long before he actually got there. If anything he seemed even bigger that day than the previous one. My god, he was stupendous.
He wore the striped singlet that I had seen on the poster and his muscles bulged and rippled as he flexed for the audience.
“VADDAHELL ISS DAT??” He roared when he saw the mare, then his booming laugh erupted.
The suited man smirked at the mare and said “Is that the best ya got in this town?”
Jack’s eyes were amused, he shifted
a cigarette from one side of his mouth to the other.
“She’ll do”
Omar stepped before the throng, for fifteen minutes he lifted weights, bent iron bars, he wrapped a chain around his bicep and flexed till it broke. We were spellbound, he bit through cables, tossed an anvil in the air and caught it. By the time the main event came our hands were raw from clapping. The suited man held up his hands for quiet, and we all stood in expectant silence.
“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, IT NOW COMES TIME FOR THE MAIN EVENT OF THE AFTERNOON, OMAR THE TURK WILL DEMONSTRATE HIS SUPERHUMAN STRENGTH BY HOLDING BACK A WORKHORSE!”
The applause swelled from the back of the crowd, people laughed and whistled, some slapped Jack on his back and nudged him with their elbows. For his part Jack stood and smiled embarrassed, he was a bit shy at the best of times, and was clearly unprepared for being the center of attention. The oily promoter came over to Jack, smiling like a shark, and said:
“Your horse is obviously a bit over the hill my friend, I sure hope Omar doesn’t hurt her”
Jack just smiled around his cigarette and said, “I ain’t worried if she ain’t”
I was very young at the time, but I noticed that everything on jack’s face was smiling, except his eyes.
Omar had attached the huge leather belt to his body, around his waist and over his shoulders, he breathed deeply, flexing his muscles even more, he smiled at the audience and waved, another cheer swelled up spontaneously
Jack took his reins loosely in his hand and clicked his tongue once, his face lost its shyness and his eyes shone with confidence. I felt my father’s hands on my shoulders as he leaned down and whispered in my ear “Watch closely”
The mare’s ears perked up at the click and she stood a bit straighter “Geetheregirl” said jack in a quiet voice. The mare stepped out and wheeled to the right three steps and stopped, “Wombac there girl”, he said and she backed up briskly till he said “Ho!” and she stopped.
The chain from Omar’s huge leather belt was firmly attached to the singletree, Omar breathed in huge breaths, expanding his chest, flexing all his muscles. His face took on a fierce glower as he looked toward the horse, he planted his feet against the firmly anchored railroad tie, he leaned back against the chain and straddled his legs, he was horizontal in the pit, giving his huge legs the maximum advantage.
“NOW LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, OMAR THE TURK WILL HOLD THIS HORSE FOR A FULL TEN SECONDS, PLEASE COUNT WITH ME… IS THE HORSE READY?”
Jack took a puff of his cigarette, and nodded.
“ARE YOU READY OMAR?”
Omar nodded.
“PULL!!”
Jack clicked his tongue twice and the mare walked forward, Omar came out of the pit with great bounding strides
“ I VASSNOT READY, I VASSNOT READY!!” he was shouting before he took two steps.
“Wombac girl” said Jack
The mare stepped back smartly to the spot where she started, she turned her head to look at Jack, obviously wondering what it was all about and wishing he’d make up his mind.
Omar went through an even more elaborate preparing ritual, he breathed, growled, stomped around, he shouted, he glowered, he shook his head. Finally he hooked up the chain and prepared himself, planting his feet and leaning back in the pit, pulling the chain taut.
The emcee called again to see if they were ready, again they nodded.
“GO!!” He bellowed
Jack looked at me, the corner of his mouth twitched a bit
“Gip!” he said.
The mare took a half step forward, and held tension on the chain and waited
“TEN” shouted the emcee
Omar’s neck bulged, his legs flexed
“NINE!” now some of the crowd were taking up the chant
Omar’s knuckles were white where he held onto the belt
“EIGHT” The sound swelled
Omar’s veins were bulging in his face
“SEVEN” the noise increased
“SIX!” They chanted, excitement swelling
Omar’s face was now crimson, eyes tightly closed
“FIVE!” the crowd’s eyes were wider now,
I stood stock-still chanting like the rest
Omar’s face split into a grimace, a high keening noise escaped his teeth
“FOUR!”
“THREE!”
Jack turned to me and winked, switched his cigarette to the other side of his mouth, I swear no one else in the throng saw what passed between us in that instant, but a smile danced in his eyes.
The reins still hung loose in his hands, there was a deep silence as two hundred breaths were drawn in to shout again.
In that silence jack’s voice barked.
“YAH!”
The mare’s haunches dropped and her hind legs coiled, her forelegs reached.
“TWO!!”
Without the slightest hesitation
the mare lunged her full weight into her harness.
Omar the Turk was catapulted out of the pit with a scream, he flew through the air like a rag doll. He struck the ground a full twenty feet away with a nauseating, meaty smack. He was dragged a further ten feet at a trot before Jack said “Ho!”
Jack backed up the Mare and unhooked the chain while the doctor and the man in the suit saw to the bleeding, inert form of Omar the Turk.
Jack walked over with his hands in his pockets and said.
“Is he dead?”
The suited man said “No, thank god”
Jack looked over at me, smiled again and said.
“Good, you owe me fifty bucks”