Photo 1: Independence Hall and the Liberty Bell Pavillion, November 21, 2008
Photo 2: Tom is wondering where the 72 degree weather from a week ago went
Showing posts with label Philadelphia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Philadelphia. Show all posts
22.11.08
Welcome to Winter!
It's only mid-November, and already we're getting snow and frigid temperatures. Looks like it could be a long winter here in Philly.
Photo 1: Independence Hall and the Liberty Bell Pavillion, November 21, 2008
Photo 2: Tom is wondering where the 72 degree weather from a week ago went
Photo 1: Independence Hall and the Liberty Bell Pavillion, November 21, 2008
Photo 2: Tom is wondering where the 72 degree weather from a week ago went
20.10.08
What's black and white and red all over?
This photo of BB at his morning toilette, that's what! Even the tourists dressed to match his spiffy red lead rope.
1.7.08
You're invited to Ben and Betsy's wedding
Yes, it's true: Betsy Ross is moving on to husband #4, none other than Ben Franklin.
Photo from nbc10.com
Ralph Archbold, who IS Ben Franklin in Philadelphia, is marrying Linda Wilde, who portrays Betsy Ross. Ben and Betsy are getting married July 3rd in front of Independence Hall in a public ceremony at 8 PM. You can read more here, here and here.
Mayor Michael Nutter will be officiating.
Peter Nero and the Philadelphia Pops will be providing the wedding music.
And 76 Carriage Company will be providing the horse-drawn carriage for transportation from the Omni hotel to the ceremony and then afterwards to the reception at the City Tavern.
I was telling my guests during a carriage ride recently about how "Ben" and "Betsy" were getting married. A cabbie with his window down must have only caught the "blah blab Ben Franklin [...] marrying Betsy Ross blah blah" part, because he stuck his whole upper body out of the window and practically shrieked in disbelief:
"Wait--Ben Franklin and Betsy Ross were MARRIED?!?!?!?!"
"No, they're GETTING married." I reassured him that his history was correct.
Only in Philadelphia, eh?
----------
This is not the first time, however, that 76 Carriage Company will have carted around Ben. Noodle and I took Ben Franklin, aka Ralph, on a ride to his 302nd birthday celebration back on January 17.
Photo from ushistory.org. It makes me cold just looking at it. (A good way to forget about the 90 degree weather.)
Photo from nbc10.com
Ralph Archbold, who IS Ben Franklin in Philadelphia, is marrying Linda Wilde, who portrays Betsy Ross. Ben and Betsy are getting married July 3rd in front of Independence Hall in a public ceremony at 8 PM. You can read more here, here and here.
Mayor Michael Nutter will be officiating.
Peter Nero and the Philadelphia Pops will be providing the wedding music.
And 76 Carriage Company will be providing the horse-drawn carriage for transportation from the Omni hotel to the ceremony and then afterwards to the reception at the City Tavern.
I was telling my guests during a carriage ride recently about how "Ben" and "Betsy" were getting married. A cabbie with his window down must have only caught the "blah blab Ben Franklin [...] marrying Betsy Ross blah blah" part, because he stuck his whole upper body out of the window and practically shrieked in disbelief:
"Wait--Ben Franklin and Betsy Ross were MARRIED?!?!?!?!"
"No, they're GETTING married." I reassured him that his history was correct.
Only in Philadelphia, eh?
----------
This is not the first time, however, that 76 Carriage Company will have carted around Ben. Noodle and I took Ben Franklin, aka Ralph, on a ride to his 302nd birthday celebration back on January 17.
Photo from ushistory.org. It makes me cold just looking at it. (A good way to forget about the 90 degree weather.)
24.5.08
That's what we've been tryin' to tell ya
This isn't "news" to those who know, but it's a newsflash to everyone who stops by my carriage looking for Pat's and Geno's in search of an "authentic" Philly cheesesteak.
From today's philly.com:
CHEEZ WHIZ IS OVERRATED FOR CHEESESTEAKS
A representative from the Greater Philadelphia Tourism Marketing Corporation came to address our company at our annual meeting. She encouraged us, in our talking up our fine city, to encourage people to eat their cheesesteaks "the right way": "Whiz wit". This ridiculous suggestion was met with a chorus of boos from lifelong Philadelphians.
The cheesesteak was invented in 1932. Guess what? There was no Cheez Whiz. Not until the 1950s. Cheez Whiz cannot be historically correct on a cheesesteak, and truth be told, runs last among cheese preferences, except at those two famous institutions at 9th and Passyunk: Pat's and Geno's.
How's that for some history? (There's more in the full article.) And the fine folks at the GPTMC want tour guides to be licensed because supposedly WE don't know Philadelphia history.
So, to reiterate what I've been telling tourists who ask for a while. Don't let anyone bully you into ordering a cheesesteak "Whiz wit." Unless you like neon goo. Get your provolone or American if you prefer.
From today's philly.com:
CHEEZ WHIZ IS OVERRATED FOR CHEESESTEAKS
A recent Philly.com poll asked, "What cheese belongs on a cheesesteak?" and Whiz finished third. American edged out provolone after more than 5,700 votes were cast.
Even Geno's owner Joey Vento, 68, downplays Whiz. "To be honest with you, I've never eaten Cheez Whiz, and I'm the owner," he said. " . . . We always recommend the provolone. . . . That's the real cheese."
A representative from the Greater Philadelphia Tourism Marketing Corporation came to address our company at our annual meeting. She encouraged us, in our talking up our fine city, to encourage people to eat their cheesesteaks "the right way": "Whiz wit". This ridiculous suggestion was met with a chorus of boos from lifelong Philadelphians.
The cheesesteak was invented in 1932. Guess what? There was no Cheez Whiz. Not until the 1950s. Cheez Whiz cannot be historically correct on a cheesesteak, and truth be told, runs last among cheese preferences, except at those two famous institutions at 9th and Passyunk: Pat's and Geno's.
Originally, the Philly steak sandwich, invented by his Uncle Pat in the early 1930s, he said, had no cheese.
By and by, cheese was introduced. "Customers got tired of eating with or without onions, just like my Uncle Pat got tired of eating hot dogs," Frank Jr. said.
American or sharp provolone? was the original debate, he said.
In the mid 1950s - not long after Chttp://www.blogger.com/img/gl.link.gifheez Whiz hit the market - his father, Frank Sr., began keeping some by the grill, and telling customers to try it.
"It worked well, it tasted good. . . . It caught on," Frank Jr. said.
Other places started "impostoring us," he said.
How's that for some history? (There's more in the full article.) And the fine folks at the GPTMC want tour guides to be licensed because supposedly WE don't know Philadelphia history.
So, to reiterate what I've been telling tourists who ask for a while. Don't let anyone bully you into ordering a cheesesteak "Whiz wit." Unless you like neon goo. Get your provolone or American if you prefer.
5.5.08
Maybe it was the big fancy truck...
Teddy in his sleek gooseneck trailer.
What makes us so blind that we cannot see what is right in front of us? Why do we let our prejudices and our past color that which stands before us, bright as day, bright as a white horse whose ancestors carried knights and kings?
I know that I spend an awful lot of time on this blog complaining about stupid things people say about me and the carriage horses, but sometimes they're just so unbelievably, entertainingly stupid they deserve to be retold here.
A couple of weekends ago, 76 Carriage horse Mike, fellow driver Kelly, Uncle Bill and I had a wedding to do in extreme South Philly. The job was too far for Mike to walk with the carriage, so he walked downtown to work, did a nice half hour tour for a lovely woman from Australia, and then was loaded on the gooseneck trailer for a short ride down to Oregon Avenue. Anyone who has ever been to South Philly knows that finding a place to park is no easy task, and it is even more difficult with a 30-foot horse trailer. So, we finally found a place near 10th and Bigler, right near Citizen's Bank Park (the Phillies were in town that afternoon).
We had the rear doors and tailgate down once the carriage had been unloaded and were re-harnessing Mike inside.
A couple of guys from the neighborhood pull up in a pick-up truck and strike up a conversation with Uncle Bill.
"That's a beautiful horse," they say, pausing to appropriately admire Mike's 2000 pounds of Percheron perfection. "So beautiful. Gorgeous. Very well taken care of."
Uncle Bill agrees. "Oh, very well taken care of."
They continue. "Yeah, not like those carriage horses you see downtown."
Oh, the look on their faces when they were told that Mike, the consumate carriage horse, had just come from work at 5th and Chestnut. Disbelief. Shock. And then, embarrassment. Humility.
And then they hit the accelerator.
3.4.08
Gentrification, then... Aristocratization?
Our carriage company sits in an increasingly-dense forest of half-million dollar townhouses and condominiums. They're springing up like dandelions this spring. Already, we've been in a battle with the construction guys across the street over where they park their backhoe (Answer: NOT in my boss's parking space next to the yard the horses use for R&R).
Daily movements to and from work are a maze of blocked streets, cement mixers, backhoes, and a particularly aggressive construction-cantina-on-wheels driver. Getting hay in and manure out is a headache.
So, it was with great amusement that I read this article in that great fake news source, The Onion:
Report: Nation's Gentrified Neighborhoods Threatened By Aristocratization
WASHINGTON—According to a report released Tuesday by the Brookings Institution, a Washington-based think tank, the recent influx of exceedingly affluent powder-wigged aristocrats into the nation's gentrified urban areas is pushing out young white professionals, some of whom have lived in these neighborhoods for as many as seven years.
[...]
"A three-block section of [Chicago neighborhood] Wicker Park that once accommodated eight families, two vintage clothing stores, a French cleaners, and a gourmet bakery has been completely razed to make way for a private livery stable and carriage house," Kennedy said. "The space is now entirely unusable for affordable upper-income condominium housing. No one can live there except for the odd stable boy or footman who gets permission to sleep in the hayloft."
Be sure and read the whole article.
Maybe aristocratization would help the horse and carriage business, after all.
This has been your bit of random sillyness for the day, brought to you by thedrafthorse.com.
The photo of Scott and Rex on Fourth Street is brought to you by b a r t on flickr.com.
1.4.08
Looking back at the Taco Liberty Bell
Twelve years ago, Taco Bell ran the following full-page ad in The Philadelphia Inquirer, New York Times, Washington Post, Chicago Tribune, Dallas Morning News, and USA Today:
The sad thing is (or rather, sad things are):
1. Some people believed this.
2. Some of the people who did not believe this didn't find the humor in it and were gravely offended (even though Taco Bell gave $50,000 to the Park Service for the upkeep of the bell).
But, I guess that's what makes this the #4 all-time April Fool's Joke on the Museum of the Hoax's top 100 list.
You can read more about the Taco Liberty Bell April Fool's Day Joke here.
(By the way: 1.) You can't buy the Liberty Bell to pay off the national debt because the federal government does not own the bell or Independence hall... Philadelphia does. 2.) The city of Philadelphia tried to sell the Libery Bell already, in 1828, for scrap metal, but gave up--for good, it would seem--when they got no takers.)
Taco Bell Buys The Liberty Bell
In an effort to help the national debt, Taco Bell is pleased to announce that we have agreed to purchase the Liberty Bell, one of our country’s most historic treasures. It will now be called the ”Taco Liberty Bell” and will still be accessible to the American public for viewing. While some may find this controversial, we hope our move will prompt other corporations to take similar action to do their part to reduce the country’s debt.
The sad thing is (or rather, sad things are):
1. Some people believed this.
2. Some of the people who did not believe this didn't find the humor in it and were gravely offended (even though Taco Bell gave $50,000 to the Park Service for the upkeep of the bell).
But, I guess that's what makes this the #4 all-time April Fool's Joke on the Museum of the Hoax's top 100 list.
You can read more about the Taco Liberty Bell April Fool's Day Joke here.
(By the way: 1.) You can't buy the Liberty Bell to pay off the national debt because the federal government does not own the bell or Independence hall... Philadelphia does. 2.) The city of Philadelphia tried to sell the Libery Bell already, in 1828, for scrap metal, but gave up--for good, it would seem--when they got no takers.)
22.2.08
Mmmmmm... Snow Day
(Bill got a taste of the snow this morning.)
Philadelphia received about 3 inches of snow this morning, so naturally, the horses didn't go out to work--it was a snow day! I did go out to the barn this morning, and captured a few of the horses (Bill, Ben, Tom and Buzz) enjoying the snow. Actually, Tom was enjoying the snow so much, he repeatedly let Ben out of his stall to come join him (which is why Ben and Tom are in the small yard together).
Enjoy!
(Tom let Ben out of his stall to join in the snowy fun.)
(Trotting twosome.)
(Bill was eating when he got "scared" by a guy on skis out in the neighborhood.)
Bill and Ben visit across the fence.
(Buzz was disappointed he couldn't get Tom to run in circles with him, once Ben was back securely in his stall.)
13.2.08
Urban Cowboys
Tyheed and Abdul (13 and 11) riding well-kept urban quarter horses provided by Al Lynch. They are wearing anti-gun violence T-shirts Photo by Sarah Nassauer of the Wall Street Journal.
I don't know if you've ever seen Google maps' street view feature, but check out this view captured of West Cambria St. and N. 17th.
The urban cowboys of Philadelphia are a long-standing, but increasingly threatened, tradition, here. You can read an interesting article about them that was published in the Wall Street Journal. The slide show is particularly interesting (I've borrowed the above image from it)--such lovely horses! One can only hope that the new mayoral adminstration will be friendly to the equines and their owners (and maybe even bring back the mounted police).
Horseback-riding and equine husbandry programs have long been used to remedy the plight of urban youth (one notable example is the Kentucky Horse Park's Mustang Troop), and therapeutic riding programs have demonstrated the healing and healthful effects of human-horse contact. So, why be in such a hurry to drive out these wonderful equine Philadelphians?
The road to the future is not a superhighway, or a cul-de-sac lined with tract mansions, or a new block of condominiums--it most likely is a bridle path.
12.2.08
All that surrounds us...
View from the back of our barn in Northern Liberties, April 2007.
A couple of quotes today from everyone's favorite French emperor (that would be Napoleon):
The extent of your consciousness is limited only by your ability to love and to embrace with your love the space around you, and all it contains.
We live and die in the midst of marvels.
28.9.07
7.9.07
Well, duh...
I took one of those quizzes about "which city should you live in" based on multiple-choice questions, such as, "What do you put on your rear end before leaving for a party?" and "How did you spend New Years eve?"
My result:
Well, duh. I've lived in Paris. For nearly a year, all told (nearly 6 months in 2000, plus two summers in 2001 and 2004).
But really, I should live in Philly right now. Which is quite fortuitous, given that I do!
Yesterday, I spent half an hour sitting in traffic at 6 AM trying to cross the George Washington Bridge into New York City, with 6000 pounds of horses behind us (I cannot tell you how *thrilled* those Percherons were...). Bleh.
This is all just a rambling, roundabout way of saying "Thank you, New York, for reminding me why I'm glad I live in Philadelphia!"
My result:
What City Should You Live In? | |
 | You should live in Paris. The city of lights will appeal to your appreciation of beauty and romance. You are a lover and a poet by nature, and Paris' sensitive charms will be a perfect match for yours. |
| Find Your Character @ BrainFall.com | |
Well, duh. I've lived in Paris. For nearly a year, all told (nearly 6 months in 2000, plus two summers in 2001 and 2004).
But really, I should live in Philly right now. Which is quite fortuitous, given that I do!
Yesterday, I spent half an hour sitting in traffic at 6 AM trying to cross the George Washington Bridge into New York City, with 6000 pounds of horses behind us (I cannot tell you how *thrilled* those Percherons were...). Bleh.
This is all just a rambling, roundabout way of saying "Thank you, New York, for reminding me why I'm glad I live in Philadelphia!"
27.8.07
Rescue by Carriage in Philadelphia
Today, one of my coworkers found a stray chow on the way home from work. She had our supervisor hold her horse, ran down the street, scooped up the dog and carried the dog back to the barn in the back of her carriage. The chow had an imbedded rope in his/her neck and a serious infection. She called the SPCA, who came and took the dog back to their clinic.
Tonight, that dog (minus the being whisked away in an impromptu horse-drawn triage ambulance) made the local news. The SPCA isn't sure they can save the chow, but they're going to try. It'd be one heckuva happy ending story if they did (the dog seemed rather friendly... it'd be nice if s/he found a good home).
With our fingers and hooves crossed...
Tonight, that dog (minus the being whisked away in an impromptu horse-drawn triage ambulance) made the local news. The SPCA isn't sure they can save the chow, but they're going to try. It'd be one heckuva happy ending story if they did (the dog seemed rather friendly... it'd be nice if s/he found a good home).
With our fingers and hooves crossed...
24.8.07
Ride 'em, Cowboy!
I have always heard about the black cowboys in Philadelphia, but had never actually seen them...
I've heard stories about taking our horses out on the breaking cart into north Philly and surprising an unsuspecting normal sized horse tied to someone's front stoop, once in a blue moon--so I always figured if I saw some of Philly's urban horses, it would be in north Philly or in west Philly.
But today, I was coming down 19th towards Spring Garden when a dainty black pinto in Western wear clip-clopped from Spring Garden onto 19th and down towards Callowhill.
Cool.
Yay, urban horses!
This reminds me... One of my favorite things about interacting with the general public on the street (you know, the people who don't want to take a ride, but just want to pet my horse) is getting to talk to and educate people who have literally never ever seen a real live horse, let alone get close to one. Chip (or Pete or Trump or whoever) may be the ONLY horse they will ever encounter, and I get to facilitate that.
Also cool.
I've heard stories about taking our horses out on the breaking cart into north Philly and surprising an unsuspecting normal sized horse tied to someone's front stoop, once in a blue moon--so I always figured if I saw some of Philly's urban horses, it would be in north Philly or in west Philly.
But today, I was coming down 19th towards Spring Garden when a dainty black pinto in Western wear clip-clopped from Spring Garden onto 19th and down towards Callowhill.
Cool.
Yay, urban horses!
This reminds me... One of my favorite things about interacting with the general public on the street (you know, the people who don't want to take a ride, but just want to pet my horse) is getting to talk to and educate people who have literally never ever seen a real live horse, let alone get close to one. Chip (or Pete or Trump or whoever) may be the ONLY horse they will ever encounter, and I get to facilitate that.
Also cool.
16.7.07
Well, I finally did it...
There's one of these stupid threads about the "poor carriage horses" on phillyblog.com, and instead of ignoring it, I responded. With a manifesto. Which I doubt anyone will actually read, except to make fun of me, but I had to get it out. I'm sorry, but the notion that we would EVER send our horses to slaughter is so ridiculous, I couldn't let it go.
You can read the posts leading up to my tirade, here:
http://www.phillyblog.com/philly/showthread.php?t=40172
Here's my post, in its entirety:
bloosum et al:
Do ANY of you have ANY proof to back up your dangerously slanderous statements about "cruel heartless carriage company owners" and "carriage horses going to slaughterhouses"? Does anyone here actually KNOW anyone in the carriage business? (Well you know someone now… now that I’m on this thread… haha)
I am sick and tired of people who have never actually talked to anyone who works with horses for a living going around telling everyone that "carriage horses are all abused," that it's "torture" for a horse to be in harness, and that people who make their living working with horses and operating a carriage business are "cruel" and "heartless," and are only interested in $$$.
I work for 76 Carriage Company, and I will tell you that we carriage drivers love and care for our horses, just as much as you care for your pets. That being said, our horses are NOT "pets": They are much, much, MUCH more than that... they are our co-workers, our partners, our students, our teachers, our livelihoods, and, most importantly, our friends. I spend nearly as much time with my Percheron/Morgan cross, Pete, as I do with my husband. The idea that we would EVER EVER repay the gifts and rewards our horses have given us through years of service and partnership with a one-way trip to a slaughterhouse is so incredibly repugnant that I can hardly type.
76 Carriage horses are not sent to slaughter. Period. They are not used to feed Europeans, dogs or zoo lions.
While I cannot speak to the specifics of the goings-on at other companies and can only speak for myself as an individual carriage driver, I can say that the idea that the carriage drivers working in this city DO NOT CARE about their horses and harm them for fun or profit is an OFFENSIVE, ERRONEOUS GENERALIZATION and a disservice to the commitment we make to our equine partners.
When 76 Carriage horses are ready to retire due to age, physical infirmity, or just because they just don't want to work in the city anymore, we find them good homes where we know that they will be well cared for. Three of our horses, Theo (aged 25), Scooby (23), and Commanche (20), were all retired in January 2006, after more than 15 years each of service to our company. They had to be retired together, because they’d been friends for most of their lives. They now live happily in New York, on a 155-acre farm, Three Amigos still. (There was an article to this effect in the Inquirer a year and a half ago, if you don’t believe me.) Another of our horses, Prince, was retired 4 or 5 years ago. He now putters around our barn and in the yard on Bodine Street, hanging out under the trees, mugging me for treats, hating to get bathed, grooming his horse friends, and receiving carrots from his many admirers in Northern Liberties. Another horse, Lancelot, recently told us that although he was perfectly fit, sound and healthy for riding and driving, he was through with SEPTA buses, Jersey drivers, and Duck boats, so he’s made a midlife career change to a farm (also in New York), where he does some light country driving and work under saddle.
Our horses are NOT sent to auction, where they could potentially be bought by "kill buyers" and they are NOT sent to the slaughterhouse. As a matter of fact, many of our horses, at some stage in their life history have passed through mixed sales, such as the infamous New Holland auction, where they could have been purchased by killer buyers, but fortunately ended up purchased by our company, private individuals, or one of the horse dealers we do business with.
When a horse has worked for us, they have earned the right to be certain that they will always have a good home, either with us, doing nothing but eating and having company money spent on them, or with a new family that can take care of them with the same sort of love and care they had here in Philadelphia.
Oh, I can hear the End-the-slavery!-Free-the-horses!-crowd now…”But there is no love and care for carriage horses. Carriage horses are machines used until they get broken and are thrown away. Carriage rides are abuse!” I will not deny that SOME carriage companies in SOME places at SOME times have, unfortunately and tragically, not held up their end of the deal in the human-equine partnership. But to make blanket unfounded statements about the nature of the industry without a shred of hard evidence-- in fact, with much evidence to the contrary-- is the same as saying “Some people abuse their children. Therefore, NO ONE should be a parent. In the 19th century, there were no child labor laws and infant mortality was high. Therefore, today, we should view child-rearing as a outdated relic of a bygone era and it should be eradicated by forward-thinking people.”
So, what love and care do our horses receive?
*Stalls cleaned twice a day.
*Fresh, quality wood shavings added daily.
*Pretty much all the hay anyone can eat (unless some of our more, um, portly friends are needing to trim down—if anything, our horses are pleasantly plump).
*An individualized grain feeding two or three times a day.
*Continuous access to fresh water in their stalls and yards and main barn.
*Custom shoes made and fitted by a qualified farrier.
*Pedicures no less often than every 5-6 weeks.
*Housecalls by a veterinarian who regularly sees our horses and gives them annual physicals.
*In emergencies, horsevan rides to New Bolton Center, where our horses have (thankfully infrequently) been treated by the same doctors that worked on the late, great Barbaro.
*Free time to run around, act silly, eat and roll in one of our three yards.
*Turn out time in Lancaster County several months a year.
*Well-cared for and properly fitted harness.
*Work schedules individually tailored to each horse’s physiology and divergent exercise needs.
*Regular grooming, bathing and haircuts.
*Cold showers on hot days.
*Warm blankets and a cozy barn on frigid nights.
That’s just the physical needs our horses have tended to (and is far from comprehensive—it cannot possibly account for all the little things done for them).
Our horses are tended to mentally and emotionally, too:
*They are given patient and proper training to learn how to do the things they are asked to do.
*They are paired with regular drivers who know, understand and truly appreciate all their individual idiosyncracies (Jim is fascinated by dogs and kids, Noodle hates hoses, Bud loves bananas, Turk loves his hind feet scratched, Nick is paranoid about having his hind feet touched, Tom has learned from Teddy how to open stall doors, Merlin and Teddy and Prince are BestFriendsForever, etc. etc. etc.).
*They are given meaningful, varied, and not-terribly-physically-difficult work to do. (And before anyone starts yelling about stabled draft horses not needing work to do, might I point you to what happens to a border collie who’s not given sheep to herd and is cooped up in someone’s suburban kitchen all day.)
*They are given contact with other horses and find their place within a whole social hierarchy full of friendships, rivalries, mutual grooming sessions, and whinnied, snorting conversations that we humans will never understand. Their daily routine actually more closely mimics the spatial routine of wild horses than many other equine management scenarios.
Plus, our 20 horses get the love and affection (and treats—carrots galore!) of the following: a couple dozen full- and part-time carriage drivers; our barn manager and a half-dozen stable hands who are on the job from 6:30 in the morning until 11:00 at night, seven days a week, 365 days a year; former carriage drivers who work with the Big Buses and Trolleys and who keep an eye out for us on the streets; office staff and managers; and the big boss man himself, The Carriage Company Owner, who—like the French and Belgian farmers who developed the majestic draft breeds we use today—lives under the same roof as his horses.
Our carriage horses are a family—they’re a herd, surrounded by a network of human herd-members.
Beyond the constant, daily attention of their people, our horses are public horses. They are equine ambassadors. They appear in movies, on TV, and in books. Many of the tourists they meet on the street have never been so close to a horse in their lives. Since they are public horses, they are in the view of the (sometimes ill-informed) general public, the City of Philadelphia, and Animal Control, all also looking after their well-being. On a broader note, 76 Carriage Company (see www.phillytour.com, FAQs) is a proud member of the Carriage Operators of North America (see www.cona.org), and is part of the larger family of the Animal Welfare Council and American Horse Council.
Because they are so well-cared for, our horses frequently live into their 30s (average full lifespan of a horse is 25-30 years old—but many horses are not so fortunate as ours are), after having spent most of their lives as “carriage horses.”
At work, these horses have virtually every bladder and bowel movement noticed, their water and food intake monitored, their respiration and perspiration observed, all in the interest in maintaining a high-quality of life (both at work and at play) for them for many, many years to come. Rest assured that it is not in ANYONE’s best interest for our horses to be over-stressed from heat or from work—or from lack of it.
I urge you to truly educate yourselves about what you claim to know so much about… when in fact, you know so little. One of the unspoken, unappreciated losses resulting from the rise of the automobile in the first part of the 20th century has been the loss of humanity’s connection to the horse. What was once an everyday experience has become a tourist attraction. (It’s too bad, because I’d rather hug my horse than my Toyota, and horses smell better than diesel fumes.) To quote an art instructor at the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts where one of our horses models, “Civilization as we know it rests in the gap in a horse’s teeth.”
(Remark heard downtown: “Horses need to live in the country, on a farm. I can’t believe those horses can live in the city. How can these horses possibly live here in Philadelphia?”
Response: “The same way they’ve been living here since 1682.”)
I’m one of the lucky people who gets to experience, every single day I go to work, one of the great mysteries and beauties of our humanity: how it is that we can connect with another species, so absolutely alien to us, and learn from each other how to work together. Our history is commingled with the horse’s. It’s a minor miracle of the partnership between man and the domestic horse every morning when my horse chooses to do what I ask him to do. (He weighs 1600 lbs. I can’t make him, even if I wanted to.) And I’ve learned how to listen to my horse. It’s a special thing to groom a horse (as I did this morning) and he decides to groom you back.
Unfortunately, most people never get to experience that partnership. The closest they get is a brief glimpse walking down the sidewalk in front of the Liberty Bell. All that special knowledge, all that understanding that’s been established from centuries of cohabitation between horse and human, has been lost for most people, people who think that they “know” horses, because they read Black Beauty and played with My Little Ponies.
Yet I can’t tell you how many people have pointed at my horse, taking a nice nap in the carriage stand between rides, his hind leg cocked because he’s relaxed, and exclaimed, “Oh, look, his leg is hurt!” only to have Pete shift his weight from one hind foot to the the other. Oh, look. Now his other leg is “hurt.” Other people ask all the time about the chestnuts (dew claws) on the inside of EVERY horse’s legs, making accusations about the “scabs” or “sores” there. News for you: all horses have them; they’re vestigial thumbnails.
The same ignorance about basic equine physiology and behavior is demonstrated every time someone tells me that my horse is about to drop dead of heat exhaustion “because he’s sweating.” Of course he’s sweating! It’s summertime! I’m sweating, too. Thankfully, horses, like humans, have sweat to operate as an efficient cooling system (modern horses, like humans, originally evolved on the grassy, hot savannahs and plains). It’s really when a horse is blowing (panting/breathing hard), and can’t cool himself down through sweating, or when a horse is dehydrated, that is cause for concern. Horses are like people: some people handle the heat better than others (fit people better than fat people, young adults better than the very old or very young). The key is taking precautions (proper hydration, staying in the shade when possible, not overexerting oneself, building up physical cardiovascular fitness, respecting one’s individual limitations) and knowing the horse in question (which is a lot easier to do when one spends 40-50 hours a week with that horse, rather than 10 seconds driving past on 5th Street shouting PETA pablum out an SUV window).
Don’t hesitate to actually TALK to us carriage people. (We are individual people working for individual companies, just as our horses are individual horses, after all—blanket generalizations are not at all useful). I, for one, am happy to continue this discussion with anybody, so long as it is a DISCUSSION, not the previous slander based on the continued blind spouting of misinformation and politically charged rhetoric.
Ask questions. A nice one to start with is, “May I pet your horse?” or “What’s his name?”
Just please don’t ask me, “DOES your horse have a name?” (I actually get this a lot. In a holier-than-thou, accusatory tone, at that. My response: Does your cat have a name? Does your child?)
Of course he does.
My horse’s name is Pete. And yes, he knows it.
And the other horses have names, too. The horses of 76 Carriage Company (Bud, Teddy, Bill, Trump, Noodle, Turk, Jim, Bubba, Tom, Rex, Carter, Merlin, Spot, Buzz, Chip, BB, Nick, Ben, Pete, Mike, and Prince), Philadelphia Carriage Company (Obie, Omar, Dominic, Da Vinci, Napoleon, Murphy, Caesar, Vernon, Cartman, Louie, Little John, Madison, Hershey, Smoky, Mickey, and Blue), and Olde City Carriage (Willy, Woody, Suzie, Moe and Truman) appreciate that y’all love them (for how could you not love the horses?), and hope you’ll be better informed about them in the future.
You can read the posts leading up to my tirade, here:
http://www.phillyblog.com/philly/showthread.php?t=40172
Here's my post, in its entirety:
bloosum et al:
Do ANY of you have ANY proof to back up your dangerously slanderous statements about "cruel heartless carriage company owners" and "carriage horses going to slaughterhouses"? Does anyone here actually KNOW anyone in the carriage business? (Well you know someone now… now that I’m on this thread… haha)
I am sick and tired of people who have never actually talked to anyone who works with horses for a living going around telling everyone that "carriage horses are all abused," that it's "torture" for a horse to be in harness, and that people who make their living working with horses and operating a carriage business are "cruel" and "heartless," and are only interested in $$$.
I work for 76 Carriage Company, and I will tell you that we carriage drivers love and care for our horses, just as much as you care for your pets. That being said, our horses are NOT "pets": They are much, much, MUCH more than that... they are our co-workers, our partners, our students, our teachers, our livelihoods, and, most importantly, our friends. I spend nearly as much time with my Percheron/Morgan cross, Pete, as I do with my husband. The idea that we would EVER EVER repay the gifts and rewards our horses have given us through years of service and partnership with a one-way trip to a slaughterhouse is so incredibly repugnant that I can hardly type.
76 Carriage horses are not sent to slaughter. Period. They are not used to feed Europeans, dogs or zoo lions.
While I cannot speak to the specifics of the goings-on at other companies and can only speak for myself as an individual carriage driver, I can say that the idea that the carriage drivers working in this city DO NOT CARE about their horses and harm them for fun or profit is an OFFENSIVE, ERRONEOUS GENERALIZATION and a disservice to the commitment we make to our equine partners.
When 76 Carriage horses are ready to retire due to age, physical infirmity, or just because they just don't want to work in the city anymore, we find them good homes where we know that they will be well cared for. Three of our horses, Theo (aged 25), Scooby (23), and Commanche (20), were all retired in January 2006, after more than 15 years each of service to our company. They had to be retired together, because they’d been friends for most of their lives. They now live happily in New York, on a 155-acre farm, Three Amigos still. (There was an article to this effect in the Inquirer a year and a half ago, if you don’t believe me.) Another of our horses, Prince, was retired 4 or 5 years ago. He now putters around our barn and in the yard on Bodine Street, hanging out under the trees, mugging me for treats, hating to get bathed, grooming his horse friends, and receiving carrots from his many admirers in Northern Liberties. Another horse, Lancelot, recently told us that although he was perfectly fit, sound and healthy for riding and driving, he was through with SEPTA buses, Jersey drivers, and Duck boats, so he’s made a midlife career change to a farm (also in New York), where he does some light country driving and work under saddle.
Our horses are NOT sent to auction, where they could potentially be bought by "kill buyers" and they are NOT sent to the slaughterhouse. As a matter of fact, many of our horses, at some stage in their life history have passed through mixed sales, such as the infamous New Holland auction, where they could have been purchased by killer buyers, but fortunately ended up purchased by our company, private individuals, or one of the horse dealers we do business with.
When a horse has worked for us, they have earned the right to be certain that they will always have a good home, either with us, doing nothing but eating and having company money spent on them, or with a new family that can take care of them with the same sort of love and care they had here in Philadelphia.
Oh, I can hear the End-the-slavery!-Free-the-horses!-crowd now…”But there is no love and care for carriage horses. Carriage horses are machines used until they get broken and are thrown away. Carriage rides are abuse!” I will not deny that SOME carriage companies in SOME places at SOME times have, unfortunately and tragically, not held up their end of the deal in the human-equine partnership. But to make blanket unfounded statements about the nature of the industry without a shred of hard evidence-- in fact, with much evidence to the contrary-- is the same as saying “Some people abuse their children. Therefore, NO ONE should be a parent. In the 19th century, there were no child labor laws and infant mortality was high. Therefore, today, we should view child-rearing as a outdated relic of a bygone era and it should be eradicated by forward-thinking people.”
So, what love and care do our horses receive?
*Stalls cleaned twice a day.
*Fresh, quality wood shavings added daily.
*Pretty much all the hay anyone can eat (unless some of our more, um, portly friends are needing to trim down—if anything, our horses are pleasantly plump).
*An individualized grain feeding two or three times a day.
*Continuous access to fresh water in their stalls and yards and main barn.
*Custom shoes made and fitted by a qualified farrier.
*Pedicures no less often than every 5-6 weeks.
*Housecalls by a veterinarian who regularly sees our horses and gives them annual physicals.
*In emergencies, horsevan rides to New Bolton Center, where our horses have (thankfully infrequently) been treated by the same doctors that worked on the late, great Barbaro.
*Free time to run around, act silly, eat and roll in one of our three yards.
*Turn out time in Lancaster County several months a year.
*Well-cared for and properly fitted harness.
*Work schedules individually tailored to each horse’s physiology and divergent exercise needs.
*Regular grooming, bathing and haircuts.
*Cold showers on hot days.
*Warm blankets and a cozy barn on frigid nights.
That’s just the physical needs our horses have tended to (and is far from comprehensive—it cannot possibly account for all the little things done for them).
Our horses are tended to mentally and emotionally, too:
*They are given patient and proper training to learn how to do the things they are asked to do.
*They are paired with regular drivers who know, understand and truly appreciate all their individual idiosyncracies (Jim is fascinated by dogs and kids, Noodle hates hoses, Bud loves bananas, Turk loves his hind feet scratched, Nick is paranoid about having his hind feet touched, Tom has learned from Teddy how to open stall doors, Merlin and Teddy and Prince are BestFriendsForever, etc. etc. etc.).
*They are given meaningful, varied, and not-terribly-physically-difficult work to do. (And before anyone starts yelling about stabled draft horses not needing work to do, might I point you to what happens to a border collie who’s not given sheep to herd and is cooped up in someone’s suburban kitchen all day.)
*They are given contact with other horses and find their place within a whole social hierarchy full of friendships, rivalries, mutual grooming sessions, and whinnied, snorting conversations that we humans will never understand. Their daily routine actually more closely mimics the spatial routine of wild horses than many other equine management scenarios.
Plus, our 20 horses get the love and affection (and treats—carrots galore!) of the following: a couple dozen full- and part-time carriage drivers; our barn manager and a half-dozen stable hands who are on the job from 6:30 in the morning until 11:00 at night, seven days a week, 365 days a year; former carriage drivers who work with the Big Buses and Trolleys and who keep an eye out for us on the streets; office staff and managers; and the big boss man himself, The Carriage Company Owner, who—like the French and Belgian farmers who developed the majestic draft breeds we use today—lives under the same roof as his horses.
Our carriage horses are a family—they’re a herd, surrounded by a network of human herd-members.
Beyond the constant, daily attention of their people, our horses are public horses. They are equine ambassadors. They appear in movies, on TV, and in books. Many of the tourists they meet on the street have never been so close to a horse in their lives. Since they are public horses, they are in the view of the (sometimes ill-informed) general public, the City of Philadelphia, and Animal Control, all also looking after their well-being. On a broader note, 76 Carriage Company (see www.phillytour.com, FAQs) is a proud member of the Carriage Operators of North America (see www.cona.org), and is part of the larger family of the Animal Welfare Council and American Horse Council.
Because they are so well-cared for, our horses frequently live into their 30s (average full lifespan of a horse is 25-30 years old—but many horses are not so fortunate as ours are), after having spent most of their lives as “carriage horses.”
At work, these horses have virtually every bladder and bowel movement noticed, their water and food intake monitored, their respiration and perspiration observed, all in the interest in maintaining a high-quality of life (both at work and at play) for them for many, many years to come. Rest assured that it is not in ANYONE’s best interest for our horses to be over-stressed from heat or from work—or from lack of it.
I urge you to truly educate yourselves about what you claim to know so much about… when in fact, you know so little. One of the unspoken, unappreciated losses resulting from the rise of the automobile in the first part of the 20th century has been the loss of humanity’s connection to the horse. What was once an everyday experience has become a tourist attraction. (It’s too bad, because I’d rather hug my horse than my Toyota, and horses smell better than diesel fumes.) To quote an art instructor at the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts where one of our horses models, “Civilization as we know it rests in the gap in a horse’s teeth.”
(Remark heard downtown: “Horses need to live in the country, on a farm. I can’t believe those horses can live in the city. How can these horses possibly live here in Philadelphia?”
Response: “The same way they’ve been living here since 1682.”)
I’m one of the lucky people who gets to experience, every single day I go to work, one of the great mysteries and beauties of our humanity: how it is that we can connect with another species, so absolutely alien to us, and learn from each other how to work together. Our history is commingled with the horse’s. It’s a minor miracle of the partnership between man and the domestic horse every morning when my horse chooses to do what I ask him to do. (He weighs 1600 lbs. I can’t make him, even if I wanted to.) And I’ve learned how to listen to my horse. It’s a special thing to groom a horse (as I did this morning) and he decides to groom you back.
Unfortunately, most people never get to experience that partnership. The closest they get is a brief glimpse walking down the sidewalk in front of the Liberty Bell. All that special knowledge, all that understanding that’s been established from centuries of cohabitation between horse and human, has been lost for most people, people who think that they “know” horses, because they read Black Beauty and played with My Little Ponies.
Yet I can’t tell you how many people have pointed at my horse, taking a nice nap in the carriage stand between rides, his hind leg cocked because he’s relaxed, and exclaimed, “Oh, look, his leg is hurt!” only to have Pete shift his weight from one hind foot to the the other. Oh, look. Now his other leg is “hurt.” Other people ask all the time about the chestnuts (dew claws) on the inside of EVERY horse’s legs, making accusations about the “scabs” or “sores” there. News for you: all horses have them; they’re vestigial thumbnails.
The same ignorance about basic equine physiology and behavior is demonstrated every time someone tells me that my horse is about to drop dead of heat exhaustion “because he’s sweating.” Of course he’s sweating! It’s summertime! I’m sweating, too. Thankfully, horses, like humans, have sweat to operate as an efficient cooling system (modern horses, like humans, originally evolved on the grassy, hot savannahs and plains). It’s really when a horse is blowing (panting/breathing hard), and can’t cool himself down through sweating, or when a horse is dehydrated, that is cause for concern. Horses are like people: some people handle the heat better than others (fit people better than fat people, young adults better than the very old or very young). The key is taking precautions (proper hydration, staying in the shade when possible, not overexerting oneself, building up physical cardiovascular fitness, respecting one’s individual limitations) and knowing the horse in question (which is a lot easier to do when one spends 40-50 hours a week with that horse, rather than 10 seconds driving past on 5th Street shouting PETA pablum out an SUV window).
Don’t hesitate to actually TALK to us carriage people. (We are individual people working for individual companies, just as our horses are individual horses, after all—blanket generalizations are not at all useful). I, for one, am happy to continue this discussion with anybody, so long as it is a DISCUSSION, not the previous slander based on the continued blind spouting of misinformation and politically charged rhetoric.
Ask questions. A nice one to start with is, “May I pet your horse?” or “What’s his name?”
Just please don’t ask me, “DOES your horse have a name?” (I actually get this a lot. In a holier-than-thou, accusatory tone, at that. My response: Does your cat have a name? Does your child?)
Of course he does.
My horse’s name is Pete. And yes, he knows it.
And the other horses have names, too. The horses of 76 Carriage Company (Bud, Teddy, Bill, Trump, Noodle, Turk, Jim, Bubba, Tom, Rex, Carter, Merlin, Spot, Buzz, Chip, BB, Nick, Ben, Pete, Mike, and Prince), Philadelphia Carriage Company (Obie, Omar, Dominic, Da Vinci, Napoleon, Murphy, Caesar, Vernon, Cartman, Louie, Little John, Madison, Hershey, Smoky, Mickey, and Blue), and Olde City Carriage (Willy, Woody, Suzie, Moe and Truman) appreciate that y’all love them (for how could you not love the horses?), and hope you’ll be better informed about them in the future.
8.6.07
Like a racehorse...
In honor of tomorrow's Belmont Stakes, I found this column on Slate today. Apparently racehorses pee 1.5 to 2 gallons a day. And Clydesdales pee more. (I could have told y'all that, having seen some of the draft horses around the barn down a five gallon bucket of water, and then having sat through not one, but TWO cycles of a traffic light waiting for Bud to finish up.)
Trump's favorite place is in front of Signer Park.
Many of the carriage horses participate in the long history of public urination outside of the Powel House (Samuel Powel and his wife Elizabeth were famous for their parties there...).
Trump's favorite place is in front of Signer Park.
Many of the carriage horses participate in the long history of public urination outside of the Powel House (Samuel Powel and his wife Elizabeth were famous for their parties there...).
1.6.07
See? I AM famous in Asia.
Or at least in cyberspace on flickr. One of my fares mslalowe took this photo May 8. I'm on 4th St. driving Spot the Wonder Horse (who didn't make it into the picture).
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