Newsreel cameraman Fred “Red” Felbinger describes covering the 1932 Kentucky Derby.
Shootin a Darby
The Kaintucky Darby of 1932…a one acter…scene is atop the clubhouse roof where the newsreelers perch to snap the dash of the nags…10 A. M. Derby Day…
Sam Savitt (Using brand new sound equipment first time out on story) — Hey, Graham! Where did I put my six inch lens?
Jack Barnett — I got a hot tip on the first race!
Al Mingalone — What is it?
Barnett— Uncle Mat!
Mingalone — Okeh! Well, I’ll put two bucks on Best Man then!
Clubhouse Ground Keeper — Hey, you red-headed lug, you can’t screw that in our roof…You birds got the whole roof leakin now!
The Gang (in chorus) — Rain on the roof! Rain on the roof!
Red (to grounds keeper) — Well, I gotta tie this tripod down before it falls overboard and sings somebody to sleep below.
Tony Caputo— Hey, Ralph! Did you forget the umbrella I bought for the camera last night?
Ralph Saunders — It ain’t gonna rain today…look what a swell day it is.
Sam Savitt — Hey, Graham, did you find my six-inch lens yet?
Tempus fugit…about seven hours of it…it’s now five P. M. jest about time for the Darby nags to parade to post…the past seven hours have been spent, shinin up lenses, focusin, changin from eight-inch to six back to eight inch, changing from par speed stock to supersensitive when it clouds up back to regular par speed when the sun breaks through.
Time out for stale sandwiches…warm pop…bummin cigarettes…cussin the bum picks on previous races…more focusin…worryin about whether the eight-inch is gonna be sharp on the finish line when focused on the back stretch…with a guy shootin wide open in this lousy light…kinda clearin up back there…now I kin stop down…take off the roll of super sensitive agin…back to regular stock.
Damn that light…cloudy agin…well, now, I’m gonna put that super roll back on agin…and this time I’m gonna keep it there…wonder if this camera could really jam on me…it’s been workin sweet up to now…but it just probably would be on a job like this it would go haywire…Gosh, that tachometer starts up slow…maybe the batteries’ weak…Wonder if I could alibi floppin on this…probably get canned…sure nobody ever got by floppin the Derby.
Oh, well, maybe fishin is good up in Wisconsin right now, anyhow…Hey! I wonder if that silent guy will block my field when his arm comes up to grind…that’d ruin my story…Gosh, my six-inch is fuzzy, wide open…guess I’ll change to a four…unless the light gits okeh so’s I kin stop er down.
Wonder why that button pusher is jokin around so with such a serious assignment as the Derby on his mind…jist aint a responsible sort of guy, I guess…Holy smokes, is that guy gonna trust makin a complete pan with that twelve inch on his box?…He’ll surely shoot half the race out of focus…Oh, well, that’s his funeral…Gosh! he owes me five bucks, though…Maybe I’ll never git it if he flops and gits canned.
Wish this lousy race was over…seven hours up here now…godam hot…Gosh, the sun is breakin through…only about half hour now until the Derby Boy, I’ll need a gin buck after this one…I’m all pooped out…Couple years ago…Pal got canned from competition reel because hung changin bag over lens to keep rain out until race…forgot take it off.
Looks like rain agin back there…Ain’t them nags ever coming out…Wonder if them other guys are worryin like me…Maybe I worry too much…No, them birds is frownin, too…What are them birds gittin together for now…Oh?, somebody’s got a tip on the Derby…better ankle over…maybe it’s hot…so…
Jack Barnett — Got a hot tip from a ex-jockey to play the Bradley entry in the Derby…twelve bucks go’s too.
Sam Savitt — Hey, Graham! Where’s my six inch lens?
Tony — I’m gonna play the Bradley entry, too.
Red — I don’t see no horse on here by the name Bradley!
Saunders — Well, that’s not its name! It’s the name of the guy what owns it.
Red — Oh! Well, put on six bucks for me too, then!
Robertson — Wish I could afford to play a coupla bucks.
(Friend of the gang starts to place bets.)
Graham — Hey, wait a minnit! I want to place two bucks myself.
Sam Savitt — Hey, Graham, don’t go away, I want my six inch lens. Where did you put it?
A bugler announces by and by the nags are about to trot out in the horse park…so the button pushers git to the switches on their cameras.
Sam Savitt — Guess I’ll put this coat on in case it starts to rain once the race starts. Wonder where that six inch lens is. (Picks up coat, six inch lens hid underneath it.)
The bosses act up stormy at the barrier…five minutes…ten…twenty…fingers are frozen to but- tons and cranks…knees are wobbly…why, oh why, don’t they get them off…shot about hundred feet already at the barrier…Oh, what a racket!
Hope I make enuf dough someday to sit at home and listen to this lousy race on the radio…come on, git goin…They’re off…boy, what a start…down the stretch…boy, that ole pan works sweet today…camera’s goin swell…roundin the turn…boy, what a picture…a whole screen full of action with that six…gotta throw on the eight on the back stretch now.
Boy, that sun helped…hot dog…them nags look sweet back there with this eight…what a camera…never fails me…never want to give this outfit up…nothin like knowin your outfit…comin into the stretch now…bunched up jest right for the “eight” back there…gotta slow down on the pan now until they git un near the finish…Boy, I’ll jest fill the screen with the winner…Keep it on him now.
Number thirteen…he’s across…goddam…what a picture…whoops…perfect…Now for a closeup of em puttin on the wreath…Boy, I feel like I been layin under a horse…and somebody jest lifted the boss off me…Wonder who won. Number thirteen! what’s his name?…I wonder…
The Gang (in perfect song) — Who won? Who won?
Voices from all sides — Burgoo King! Burgoo King!
Jack Barnett — Hurray for the Bradley boss!
Red— You dumbbell! Btadley didn’t win! Burgoo King won!
The Gang — You dumb redhead! Burgoo King was the Bradley entree!
Red — You mean I was on the winner?
Everybody — Certainly, yokel!
Red— Hot Dog! What a race! What a picture! See youse guys next year.
And here is Tony Caputo’s footage of the race.