Horse Racing

Remembering Trainer Henry Moreno: A Lifetime Of Horses And Laughter


Trainer Henry Moreno, who died on Sunday at the age of 90, is remembered by longtime friend Ron Erickson

A tall, attractive blonde walked toward Henry Moreno in the saddling paddock at the Del Mar Thoroughbred Club in Southern California — a gorgeous, park like setting built years before by popular singer/actor Bing Crosby and his Hollywood friends.

The year is 2009 and Henry had just saddled yet another Thoroughbred for a major stakes race.

The woman, a reporter for a racing publication, asked Moreno when he trained his first winner at Del Mar and the trainer — always good for a funny quip — said: “I remember it well. In those days the saddling area was over there,” pointing to where some trees now stand.

The reporter listened intently and then … wait for it: “I remember my mom was with me because I was still in diapers. It was more than 60 years ago.”

A few onlookers heard the remark and started laughing. It was hard not to smile in the presence of Henry Moreno. The writer, not at all offended, laughed more than anyone.

Just then a female exercise rider walked past 15 feet away and held out her hand — a signal for Moreno to quickly shove a hand in his pocket and produce a piece of wrapped hard candy he tossed flawlessly to her.

“Thanks, Henry,” she said. That scene would be replicated time and again mostly during morning workouts. He was a regular at the nearby Safeway store where he secured bags of candy several times each month.

But if Moreno was pleasant and fun and approachable, he was also tough as nails and even at 80 people knew best not to mess with him. Riding his stable pony every day and never having smoked nor taken a drink kept him in remarkable shape.

He was a boxer when it was a high school sport at Corona High School southeast of Los Angeles and he played basketball, too. He’d always been an athlete. Was still playing tennis up until a few years ago and quit only because it was hard to find opponents except at some fancy country club. “Fancy” is not a word associated with Moreno.

When he was growing up on his family farm/ranch, they milked 120 cows each day and also ran a cheese factory.

The whole Moreno clan pitched in to maintain the farm operation that also included horses. And the family had a champion saddlebred named Rey El Moreno, a gorgeous individual who appeared in many commercials. In parades, too.

As Henry cruised through high school, he spent summers and after school working on the farm. When his uncle Eddie Moreno became very successful in Quarter Horse racing, Henry quickly followed him to Los Alamitos racetrack just south of Los Angeles.

He won his first race in 1950 but a few years later was drafted and wound up in Korea. He didn’t talk about it much but has said in past interviews “I was very lucky to make it home. To be honest with you, I had some of the closest calls you could ever imagine.”

After Korea, Henry came back to Los Alamitos and was successful as a trainer, winning his share of races and establishing himself in the highly competitive racing business.

There are some classic stories from those days.

One evening, Henry was at a small diner across from the track.The screen door swings open and two very big, very tough-looking men walk over to the counter where Moreno is sitting on a stool having dinner.

“You Moreno?” one guy asked. “I am,” Henry answered.

“Come outside, we want to talk to you about a gambling debt you owe our boss,” said the one who badly needed a shave and smelled a little sweaty.

“You have the wrong Moreno,” Henry told him. “In fact I very rarely even bet on my own horses.”

“You must be deaf; get your ass off that stool, we’ll be waiting outside,” the other tough guy said.

Henry told them he’d be out as soon as he finished dinner and maybe a little dessert. Then he added, “Do you guys want some ice cream?” The two men turned and walked away. They were not amused.

A little while later, Moreno went outside where the two do no talking but rush at Moreno. He sidestepped the first guy and knocked him cold with one perfect punch. Henry then commenced to give the other guy a first class beating.

When he is finished, Moreno told them, “Like I said…you’ve got the wrong Moreno. I hardly ever make a bet at the track and I have never gambled elsewhere.

“And let me give you a little more advice, it’s not my brother Angel, either. Mess with him and you’ll get an even worse whipping.”

Then he said to no one in particular, “I’m still hungry, wonder if they have any apple pie,” then reentered the diner.

Henry never heard another word about the mistaken debt, but later learned that the “boss” was a notorious Los Angeles gambler and bookmaker. Name was Mickey Cohen.

By about 1960, Moreno was training Thoroughbreds at Santa Anita and never looked back.

“We were almost running for the fun of it at Los Alamitos,” Moreno said of Quarter Horse racing then. “I had to go where there were real purses.”

South American Imports
Early on, Henry realized that competition for the best racing prospects was intense. Since he was just getting started, money was a little tight, though he already had a couple of solid clients. He talked with both of them about an idea he had.

Henry, who spoke perfect Spanish, suggested to the prospective owners that he go to South America — most likely Argentina and maybe Chile — and buy some top-notch horses for a fraction of what comparable prospects would bring in the United States.

The owners agreed and gave Henry $30,000 and off he went with money taped to his belly under his shirt. He was probably the first trainer to make the trip, but surely not the last.

He told the story of talking to ordinary racing fans, asking them which were the best horses in the area and that’s how he began his quest. Within a week he had four prospects lined up and had chartered an airplane to get them back to the United States.

Soon they were on their way, the aging DC-4 struggling to gain altitude from the South American air strip. Because of the heat, the air was thin, without much density and not much lift even though it was 6 a.m. and the sun barely visible on the horizon.

Up front, two experienced pilots carefully kept the aircraft as level as possible while flying in big circles, slowly gaining the necessary altitude to clear the nearby mountains.

In the back was Henry Moreno, four very good race horses and two grooms all breathing normally as the plane — unpressurized in the rear freight section–made it to 9,000 feet above sea level. A little higher and breathing will become labored and the horses needed to be kept calm.

As the relic of World War II continued to grind upwards and above 10,000 feet, the horses became slightly agitated but the plane needed another 1,500 feet to clear a ridge. One of the horses became scared from reduced air and went to his knees.

A groom about to jerk on the halter to get him up was quickly stopped by Moreno. “We’ll be descending to under 10,000 feet in just a couple of minutes. Just rub on his neck and muzzle and keep him calm,” Henry told the groom.

Soon they were breathing normally again as the creaky old aircraft descended slightly and continued northward, mile after slow mile.

One thing they hadn’t planned on was how much fuel would be expended while circling to gain altitude. Because of weight, the gas tanks had not been filled in the first place, so they were going to need to set down and unload and walk the horses while they took on fuel.

They found a small airport and upon landing Henry was able to offload the horses by getting a couple of local farmers to cobble together a ramp using an old flatbed truck. The horses were walked, then briefly turned loose in a grass paddock next to the airport. The horses rolled in the grass and dirt and seemed none the worse for the experience.

Two hours later they were fueled, reloaded and on their way again.

These four horses turned out to be the foundation for Henry’s success. They all did very well and it paved the way for others to begin the practice of importing runners from South America.

Tizna and Sangue
One of his later imports from Chile, a mare named Tizna, not only won $650,263 but became a well-known foundation mare through her offspring. Major sires like Cee’s Tizzy, Tiznow, Tizbud and Tizway all descended from Tizna. A handful of others, nearly as talented, are on that list.

In the late 1970s, Henry was introduced to Joe and Charlene Parks. Parks was an underground cable contractor with a thriving business who wanted to race Thoroughbreds.

He was also a big, 350-pound, gregarious character with a sense of humor almost equal to Moreno.

Money was no problem with Joe Parks. He put on lavish parties at his estate near Riverside, Calif. He would pay for airline tickets and hotel accommodations for friends to fly in for big races and he always had several boxes at the various Southern California racetracks.

He was generous to a fault and Charlene was kind and quiet and classy.

In the early 1980s, the Parks had a particularly good filly named Sangue. She won five graded stakes races in a row— two of them Grade 1 – and by the time she was done racing had earned $1,272,086. She was a small horse with not a particularly long stride. She just didn’t know these negative things and it didn’t keep her from being fast, very fast.

The 1983 running of the Yellow Ribbon Stakes at Santa Anita was an especially good race with a field deep in talent. As they broke from the gate, Sangue was shuffled back to last and was far behind early. A friend of Joe’s, Louie Cotroneo, leaned over and commiserated with Joe, saying, “I guess this just isn’t her day.”

Joe just said “It’s not over,” at which point Bill Shoemaker, aboard Sangue, got her moving on the backside and by the time they reached the head of the stretch she was rolling past horses like they were standing still and won earily.

After the race, legendary trainer Woody Stephens, who had brought the very good mare Sabin out from Belmont Park in New York was looking unhappy after a fourth-place finish when another legend, D. Wayne Lukas, walked over and said, “Cheer up, Woody. You just got a training lesson from a real cowboy.” It broke the tension and both men walked over to congratulate Henry.

So Sangue, who was bred in Ireland, not Argentina or Chile as some thought, was very special.

About a month earlier she had been entered to run in the Golden Harvest Handicap at Louisiana Downs.

Joe Parks asked his secretary to secure six first-class airline tickets for wife Charlene, Henry Moreno, three other friends and himself. A little while later, Parks was told there were not six first-class tickets available on the same plane.

Henry and a friend, Rod Peterson, volunteered to fly coach, but Parks would not hear of it. Annoyed, he left the house, jumped into his new Mercedes and drove away, presumably to have lunch somewhere nearby.

An hour went by, no Joe. Two hours, not back yet. Finally, three hours later he returned, and his secretary said she had solved the problem.

Joe quickly hushed her.

“It doesn’t matter. I bought an airplane,” he said.

Henry couldn’t believe his eyes when Joe took him to the airport the next day. Parks had purchased an executive aircraft that seated eight very comfortably and had a bathroom, full galley and the newest and most advanced electronics.

And that’s how the group got to Louisiana.

The best laugh of all came from legendary jockey Bill Shoemaker who rode Sangue in that race.

Shoe had ridden in New York the day before and arrived in Louisiana via a commercial carrier. When he met Henry, Moreno asked if he wanted to ride back on Joe’s private plane. Shoemaker said he’d let Henry know later. Just before the race, Joe again mentioned to Shoemaker that there was room on the plane back to Los Angeles. Shoe again was non-committal.

After the race — which Sangue won easily — Shoemaker immediately accepted the lift home.

Asked what changed his mind, the legendary rider laughed and said, “If we had not won, I didn’t want to ride all the way home listening to a bunch of unhappy losers.”

Laughter and Practical Jokes
If Henry was known for his abilities as a trainer, he was even better known for his decency and sense of humor.

The kindness was always evident as he paid hay bills for fellow trainers who were a little short of cash. This was not incidental money — one trainer passed away owing Henry almost $50,000 and others were in debt for lesser amounts, but he never even kept track.

His sense of humor was on display in a number of classic instances.

One morning, Santa Anita racing secretary Jimmy Kilroe called Henry for the address of a European trainer/owner. Henry said he would find it and bring it over to the racing office when he came to Clockers’ Corner for breakfast, walking over with friend Rod Peterson.

When they arrived, former jockey George Taniguchi was sitting in the outer office serving as a sort of gate keeper for the racing secretary. Hardly looking up, he motioned Henry in to Kilroe’s office.

Henry closed the door behind him and then in a loud voice said, “it’s about time someone tells you what an awful racing secretary you are — the worst — you don’t have a clue and no one likes you.”

The friend who had walked over with Henry took one look at Taniguchi who looked like he was going to cry, then the former jockey said, “Henry has gone crazy. We gotta get him out of there.” It was sheer terror.

Just then, Henry walked out and slammed the door behind him, then headed for the main office door.

Taniguchi rushed into Kilroe’s office only to find an empty chair. It was a spoof. Henry had great respect for Kilroe ,who had slipped out and around the corner to get his shoes shined before it got busy as fans began arriving for the afternoon races.

Meanwhile when Henry and Peterson got in the hallway, there was Kilroe.

“Hi Jimmy, here’s that address,” Moreno said handing him a slip of paper as the two headed for breakfast at Clockers’ Corner.

Taniguchi was not amused. Of course, he couldn’t tell Kilroe what had happened, but it’s said that he never talked to Henry Moreno again.

There are dozens of Henry Moreno stories told around the racetrack and a favorite of his friends is as follows:

One morning, Henry and Steve Ford, an aspiring actor and son of President Gerald Ford, were having breakfast at Coco’s near Santa Anita in Arcadia, long a morning hangout for trainers and owners.

Cell phones had just become popular, so it was some years ago when Henry’s phone rang and it was a new owner who was, well, a giant headache. Now Henry had trained for a number of actors and entertainers — Richard Farnsworth, Don Ameche and a handful of others — and he was hardly in envy of any of them. He liked some and others not so much, but treated them all like anyone else.

But this new guy was always dropping names — “going to play golf with Dean Martin this afternoon, having dinner with Buddy and Sherry Hackett tomorrow night” and on and on. All BS.

And the current call was no different. After Henry hung up, Steve Ford said, “Why don’t we play a joke on him—I’ll have my dad call him up and ask him about a horse and when the guy comes to the track tomorrow and starts bragging, you guys can really call him out and kid him about saying the president had called him.

“Would your dad really do that,” Henry asked.

“He loves a good joke and he likes you — I think he’ll do it,” Steve said.

And he did. The next day the owner came to the track all excited, telling trainers Mel and Warren Stute and Henry and others at Clockers’ Corner about receiving a call from President Gerald Ford. Of course, they were all in on the joke and told him it was nonsense and how dumb did he think they were.

The guy left soon afterward, completely deflated. Here he was, telling the truth about getting a call from the president and nobody believed him. Tough audience. But he never bragged again.

Henry’s last horse, named Spud Spivens, was named for a fictional character that Moreno would occasionally refer to as a sort of invisible friend or fall guy. “Oh, we’re short on leg wraps, Spud Spivens must have forgotten to order them.” Or. “We’re going out for Mexican food. See if Spud Spivens wants to go, too.”

So when longtime friends Audrey and Vinnie Marchionno bought a colt for Henry to train, Spud Spivens became a race horse that won more than $300,000.  Henry remembered the owners and horse fondly after he retired from training.

Henry kept coming to Santa Anita during training hours, gathering with friends around a breakfast table at Clockers’ Corner.

One morning, his friend Rod Peterson excused himself and walked down by the rail to get a better view of a horse galloping. Peterson had his left foot in a cast and was struggling with a cane. A woman wearing sun glasses and a visor to block the morning sun walked to the same area and she was having problems, too. It was a cool morning and she had her jacket collar turned up against the wind. Her left foot was also bandaged.

Peterson casually asked what happened and it turned out both had been stepped on by a horse’s hoof.

They laughed about it and chatted for a few minutes. When Peterson got back to the table, the razzing began, led by Moreno.

“We didn’t know you knew her. You two seem like close friends.” On it goes and with good reason. The woman is the well-known actress Bo Derek, unrecognized by Peterson but not by others at the table.

The teasing Peterson absorbed wa not lost on Derek who as she slowly passed the table said warmly, “It was so nice to see you again, maybe we’ll get a chance to talk more this afternoon at the races.”

As she walked away, Henry started the teasing again and Bo Derek turned and said, “And it’s always great to see you, Henry.” She couldn’t resist the moment. Neither Peterson nor Moreno have ever met her before. Now the teasing turned on the instigator and Henry was blushing and stammering and everyone was laughing and enjoying the moment.

Such is life at Santa Anita’s Clockers’ Corner. It won’t be the same without Henry Moreno, who will long be remembered after his passing earlier this week at the age of 90.

Ron Erickson, a longtime friend of Henry Moreno and a Thoroughbred owner and breeder, is a retired casino executive now living in Tulsa, Okla.





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