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Ghosts, Gumbo and Hurricanes
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One unforgettable regular was the impeccable,
light-skinned Creole called the “Man in Red,” who wore
red socks, red patent leather shoes, red slacks, red
vest and bright red suspenders. “Big Time Crip” was a
black bookie with a goatee. An amputee with no legs,
Crip held court outside on the concrete steps of the
lower grandstand. For the unfortunate students that were
spiraling down in a losing streak, Crip extended betting
credit for periods of one week. If accounts were not
settled by pay day, Crip’s associates collected the
debt, using baseball bats.
The “peanut man” was a vendor, who could drop a bag of
roasted peanuts down your shirt pocket from ten
grandstand rows away. Reverend Bethune (the “Gangster
Priest”) held services in a 7th Ward bar-room and
concealed his betting money from his wife in a tobacco
can buried in the tomato garden. On days like the
Louisiana Derby or New Orleans Handicap, there were
professional pickpockets, with names like “Rooster the
Booster” and “Mike the Spike” that glided through the
crowd like sharks at high tide. Retired boxer “Red Huss”
had the iron will and patience of Job. With a memorized
list of mud sires, Huss only played the ponies on days
that it rained. Let the record show that Red Huss went
out a winner.
There were cab drivers, school teachers, dock workers
that altered their daily schedule so that they could bet
the Daily Double. The mail man had a season pass and was
not bashful about altering his route and standing in the
$2 betting line with his leather mail pouch strung over
his shoulder. Maybe the strangest character of all was
“The Captain.” An ex (high ranking) cop that long ago
gave up on betting anything with four legs, “Cap” still
showed up in the Racing Secretary Office every day and
handicapped the entire card.
In New Orleans there are no apologies for superstition
or voodoo. It was Fair Grounds’ horse players that
invented the “Holy Ghost” betting system. The abiding
principle behind the “Holy Ghost” betting system is that
events happen in sequence of “threes.” For example---if
the program #4 horse would win the sixth and seventh
races then word of the “Holy Ghost” would flash through
the Fair Grounds betting galleys like an electrical
current. “Bet the #4 horse,” people would remind each
other. “It’s the Holy Ghost.”
The old characters have passed away but, thanks to a
long list of restaurants, the link between Fair Grounds
and New Orleans remains strong. The connection may have
started with the Broadway figure “Diamond Jim” Brady,
who opened a restaurant on Bourbon Street in 1906. Brady
was a horse owner and a high stakes gambler. Brady had a
habit of dropping a small diamond in every hundredth
plate of spaghetti and meatballs. His restaurant catered
to big money players like “Pittsburgh Phil” and “Bet A
Million” Gates that passed through New Orleans every
winter.
Today, the lineage of race-tracker friendly restaurants
continues. A catfish po-boy before the races or dinner
and drinks aftweards is standard operating procedure for
many New Orleans racing fans and horsemen. There is no
shortage of good restaurants to appease a losing day at
the tracks or to celebrate a winning one. When it comes
to throwing a party, drinking, gambling or eating
out----New Orleans folks know the drill.
Garlic on the bayou. Located on the West Bank of the
Mississippi River, the mysterious Mosca’s is near the
top of every horseman’s list of “go to” restaurants.
Talk about un-pretentious. You pull into a gravel
parking lot on the edge of a cypress swamp and find your
reserved table identified with a sheet of yellow legal
paper. A late night hot spot for gamblers and underworld
figures back in the days, Moscas is now a quietly
understated hideaway. “Nothing stays the same,” said
owner Johnny Mosca, who used to own and breed
thoroughbreds.
Family recipes that date back to 1946 are still in vogue
at Mosca’s. Don’t go there if you are in a hurry. Every
piping hot dish is an old school, classical Italian
masterpiece. Take heed. A sizzling pan of Oysters Mosca
under cheese and bread crumbs or the homemade Italian
sausage can be addictive.
Loud, friendly and fun, Mandina’s is the ultimate New
Orleans “neighborhood restaurant. Cherished by droves of
regulars (politicians, judges, newspaper journalists and
a cadre of race horse trainers), the origins of
Mandina’s trace back to the late 1800’s, when a Sicilian
immigrant named Palermo Mandina opened a grocery store
on Canal Street. Today, the mandatory restaurant
appetizer is a steaming cup of turtle soup, spiked with
a splash of sherry. Take your pick between the rout
almandine or red beans and rice with Italian sausage as
house favorites.
The wash and rinse cycle of Hurricane Katrina left
Mandina’s with six feet of water in the building for
over two weeks. Waiter Steve Storey has worked at
Mandina’s for over 30 years. “I evacuated to Dallas
after the storm and thought about working in the hotel
business,” Storey said. “But I guess this funky old
place pulled me back to the city.”
Set in a small, comfortable home, Brigtsen’s is where
fine food and hospitality often finish in a “dead heat.”
The owner, Frank Brigtsen, is a box seat holder at Fair
Grounds and enjoys the challenge of handicapping.
Jockeys Robby Albarado, Shaun Bridgmohan and Jamie
Theriot are frequent guests. Another satisfied regular
is trainer Neil Pessin, who usually chooses between the
paneed rabbit or the sautéed red snapper. “If you are a
horseman and don’t have reservations, Frank (the owner)
can get you in off the also-eligible list,” Pessin
declares with a grin. “Frank is knowledgeable about the
game and it makes the whole experience a real pleasure.”
Restraint is a requirement when eating at Manale’s on
Napoleon Avenue. After a serving of barbeque shrimp, the
impulse is to drop the bib and lick the plate. Founded
in 1913, the quiet, vintage style Italian-Creole
restaurant is not a well-kept secret. The waiting area
can get crowded. Visitors browse the dimly lit
exhibition of photos of Hollywood celebrities, National
Football League quarterbacks, boxers, singers, and
jockeys that have been customers. New Orleans’ favorite
son Archie Manning and his family drop in at random.
Finish up your meal with a rum soaked Creole bread
pudding and you can consider yourself a dues paying
member of the “Who Dat Nation.”
If you are looking for a low-sodium, strip-mall bran and
yogurt franchise then the ancient and innocuous Bozo’s
is not for you. Bozo’s is a family-tavern atmosphere
with the best cornmeal-battered fried oysters in the
Western Hemisphere. Without any attempt at marketing or
advertising, the old hole-in-the-wall is usually packed
with race-trackers. After a bowl of Bozo’s andouille
gumbo and a cold beer, you are ready to change leads and
head off to the races.
A hop, skip and a jump from the race track, Liuzza’s is
a weathered neighborhood restaurant and bar that has
served soft shell crabs and beer in a frosted mug since
1947. Elvis Presley, Fats Domino, Vince Vance and the
Valiants and Bob Marley are on the juke box.
Dat’s all folks. Just remember when you go to the Fair
Grounds---if some jockey wins two races in a row then go
to the closest betting window and get down on the “Holy
Ghost
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