I Adore Cynthia Haydon

There’s a book I desperately wanted to write that I couldn’t!
by Charlie Leck

I first met Cynthia Haydon in Toronto in the autumn of 1981. Prior to the encounter, my wife had explained to me that the woman was “a legend.” She may have been, but I found her a hoot (as we say up here in the northland) and I have adored her ever since. She’s very famous in England, her homeland. She was among the first citizens of that nation to be named to the British Horse Society’s Equestrian Hall of Fame (housed at the Household Cavalry Mounted Regiment’s headquarters in Knightsbridge). Cynthia was a close friend of Elizabeth Bowes-Lyon, the Queen Mother, right up to the time of the royal lady’s death in 2002 at the age of 101.

Cynthia is well known in North America as well. As a matter of fact, at shows where there are driving classes, she’s an absolute celebrity. Sports Illustrated wrote glowingly about her in June of 1961, a week following the remarkable annual horse show, and her appearance in it, in Devon, Pennsylvania.

“It was more like a scene from a Dickens novel than a Philadelphia Main Line horse show. Blue lightning streaked and thunder crackled as a cold wind lashed curtains of rain across the ring. In the distance a coach approached, its lights blinking through the storm, four dripping bays snorting and throwing mud in all directions. Ringmaster Sergeant Joseph Mulranen, his red coat slicker-covered, lifted his bugle and sounded a nonhorse-show tune: the Navy Swimming Call. Thus went the seventh day of the 65^th Devon Horse Show, the first big eastern show, under conditions that would have brought the World Series, the Masters – or most horse shows – to a sudden stop.

“But most American horse shows do not have Mrs. Frank Haydon on the scene. The day Devon started, Cynthia Haydon was collecting ribbons at the Richmond Royal Horse Show in England. A jet flight later she was in Devon for her first class, driving the hackney horses of Mr. Chauncey Stillman.

“When the storm broke later in the week, she was atop Mr. Stillman’s park drag (a private coach-and-four) handling the fractious hackneys with the no-nonsense look of the headmistress of St. Trinian’s. ‘It rains in England, too,’ Mrs. Haydon announced. ‘Let’s get on with it!’ So on they went into the flooding ring, the top-hatted footmen slitting behind with arms stoically crossed as Mrs. Haydon put the four-in-hand through the driving test marked by painted barrels. On her heels came the coach of Mr. and Mrs. James K. Robinson Jr., last year’s winner, its top jammed with soaked guests, among them the show’s president, Lawrence Kelley. His gray flannels drooping, Kelley stood at the rear of the coach sounding calls on an English mail-horn and the storm continued. When the competition was over, Mrs. Haydon received the trophy from Miss Adele Statzel, who, deciding to abandon dignity and save shoes, made the wet presentation in her stocking feet. Meanwhile, huddled atop the rival coach, watching his own winning four-in-hand, was Chancey Stillman. Mrs. Haydon does not allow passengers when she drives.”
[Sports Illustrated, June 19, 1961, by Alice Higgins]

Anne, my wife, would have been 16 years old when that show took place at Devon. She and her sister often showed hunters and jumpers at Devon (at that 1961 show, 950 horses and ponies were entered in the hunter/jumper classes). She probably stood along the rail watching the coaches perform on that rainy night. She said it was at those shows that she began to fantasize about owning a coach like that and a four of hackney horses. After we married, I helped her realize her dream. I traveled the country for her, looking for the coach. She traveled, looking for the horses. In 1980, in possession of the coach and the four, she began to teach herself to drive. She was at the big show in Toronto in 1980, only a few months after we purchased the coach and the four horses. Then we showed there again in 1981, when Cynthia Haydon was judging and I got to meet the great lady for the first time. Cynthia didn’t think highly of my wife’s driving.

“She needs help,” she told me.

Four months after that gathering in Toronto, Anne and I flew to England, to spend two weeks in the beautiful Cotswold countryside, near the home that Cynthia Haydon shared with her husband, Frank, in Moreton-on-Marsh. I don’t think I ever enjoyed a vacation any more than that one.

The real purpose behind the trip was a schooling opportunity for Anne. She was going to take lessons in handling a four-in-hand of horses from Cynthia, considered the finest driver of four in the world. We were both excited and nervous about the trip for weeks before we left. Anne had only been driving for a bit more than 18 months when she went off to hone her skills with the queen of such horsemanship.

All our arrangements were made through Frank Haydon, Cynthia’s husband. He handled all of Cynthia’s business matters and arranged all her travel, as well as supervising the management and sale of horses and Cynthia’s appearances at horse shows. It had been through Frank that we paid for the tutoring lessons and he was firm and adamant about the amounts and the payments. According to Frank, his wife was royalty in the horse world and she was to be treated and paid that way.

Frank was a big man – six and a half feet tall, with massive hands and long, dangling arms. He had a deep, roaring laugh and a wide, wide smile. He dressed well, always in a tie and jacket if not a carefully tailored suit. He had arranged our hotel for us and suggested we would be pleased. We were.

It was a lovely, little hotel in the village of Kingham, only five miles from the tutoring center in Stow-on-the-Wold. An old milling building had been converted into a charming and small guest hotel. The owners boasted to Frank that it was haunted and a couple of Frank’s earlier visitors had confirmed their encounter with the ghosts. So, Frank thought it would be a special treat if we encountered an apparition or two.. They were known to be particularly present in one of the guest rooms that must have had special meaning to them. Frank, in a moment of churlishness, had inveigled the hotel owners into putting us into that sleeping room. When we were shown to the room, however, I immediately noticed that it had twin beds that were far removed from each other and, being yet quite newly married, I insisted we would be more pleased with a large, double bed. The owner was more than accommodating to us.

On one evening toward the beginning of our stay, we invited Frank, Cynthia and another English friend, Susan Greenway, to have dinner with us at the hotel. All of us gathered, at the beginning of the evening around a wonderful, big and roaring open fire in the hotel’s sitting room. I was pleased to see that Cynthia enjoyed sipping on a Martini and I joined her. Frank ordered some very expensive whiskey (remember, it was on me).

Frank was particularly interested in the topic of ghosts – ethereal beings – who might have visited the hotel and any of its guests. He kept bringing the subject up. When he learned we’d experienced none, he nearly sulked like a boy who’d been refused a bit of candy.

On that evening, and others, both of them opened up and began sharing stories of their extraordinary life together. They had shown their horses all over Europe, in Canada and, of course, in the United States. As experts on the Hackney Horse, they’d been invited to many parts of the globe to help horse owners with problems or to reeducate an unruly and/or misbehaving horse.

Frank liked big, delicious and free dinners, so we spent a couple of other nights at the hotel and the conversations always turned to their extraordinary adventures in the horse world – and most especially in the coaching world. It was on one of these evenings at the Mill House Inn that Anne and Cynthia connived to create the World Coaching Club in order to compete with the two great (gentlemen only) clubs that already existed in London and New York City. Now the World Coaching Club is well known and thriving and Anne and Cynthia are always remembered as its founders.

On Monday through Friday, during both weeks, it was all work for Anne. There was plenty of ground work – learning to properly lunge a horse and learning to handle and furl a long four-in-hand driving whip and also getting familiar with the English style of handling all the ribbons (reins) in one hand and the whip in the other. I often just hung around and took photographs and jotted down notes as I listened to Frank and Cynthia.

It was an extraordinary opportunity to get to know Cynthia and I came home aching to write a book about her. She was such a character and she had an enormous sense of humor as well as an unusual and spectacular talent. In a letter, I suggested to Cynthia that I wanted to write such a book about her life. She was known and admired in many parts of the world and, though it wouldn’t be a big seller, it would sell a copy or two.

It was Frank who replied to my letter with a long list of requirements that included a large, advance payment and complete control over the content of the book. He was assassinating the project.

Nevertheless, a couple of years later, we invited them to come to Minnesota to judge a driving show we were sponsoring. Frank informed me that they only flew first class and that their hotel had to be of a certain high level of elegance.

“What the heck,” we said to one another, and we decided to foot the bill. It would give me another chance to sell the idea of the book and an opportunity for many of our friends to meet the great lady.

They were a big hit up here in the northland. Cynthia tutored many, many struggling drivers of horses and the two of them judged two long days of classes in our horseshow for carriages and coaches.

However, I got a no-deal on the book unless the fat fee was paid way up front. Even that tempted me, but giving Frank editing control over the content just didn’t sit well with me at all. Alas, the project never happened.

I had other opportunities to spend time with Cynthia in both England and here in North America. I adored her spiritedness and I was so impressed with her ability to move a four of horses around an arena show ring with such silky smoothness. In fact, I was so taken by her that when our youngest child (a girl) was born in 1984, I lobbied to name her Cynthia Louise – after two of the finest horsewomen I’ve ever known: the great Cynthia Haydon and Anne’s sister, Louise.

Our Cynthia became something of a pretty good handler of horses herself. To this day, I don’t think I ever look at that kid without thinking of the jolly, tough and spectacular woman in Moreton-on-the-Marsh. In 1999, when our own Cynthia was 15, Anne and I took her on a trip around the world. Before flying home to America, we stopped in England and took a train out to the Cotswolds and we took Frank and Cynthia to lunch. Of course, we allowed Frank to make the reservation and, indeed, it was at a very nice inn in a lovely, peaceful spot.

In the inn’s very pretty, little garden, with Frank choosing the setting and posing the girls, I took their photograph. Ever since, it has remained one of the most prominent photographs on my desk – my two Cynthia girls. I cherish both of these spirited women a great deal.

Frank is gone now. He died on 14 May 2005. He certainly gets credit for building the most famous and successful hackney horse stud in the world – the Hurstwood Hackney Stud in East Grinstead, in Sussex. They established the business in the 50s. Frank and Cynthia soon were known around the world for their champion horses and Cynthia took home trophy after trophy at the best shows in England, Europe and North America.

They were both born into the hackney horse world. Frank’s dad produced the breed as a hobby and Frank became agile at driving them. When his father died in 1934, Frank sent a number of the horses over to a fellow named Robert Black, one of the best known trainers among Hackney people. He lived near Reading, in Berkshire, and he had a daughter named Cynthia, who began driving the horses when she was but a child. She learned to drive a four-in-hand when she was in her teens. Because of her father, she got very used to going to the biggest shows in Great Britain.

Frank had studied at Wimbledon College but left school to take over a small, family chain of butcher shops after his father died. He asked Cynthia to marry him when they were both 21. Following the Second World War, in which he served at a lieutenant-colonel, with some decent capital provided by the butcher business, they restored her father’s stud and their business took off. They began breeding horses for people all over the world – in both North and South America and all parts of Europe. He sold off the butcher shops in the late 60s and he and Cynthia moved to the Cotswolds – first to Lower Slaughter and then to Adlestrop. They officially retired from the breeding business in 1995.

The two of them were together for over 65 years. Frank was 88 when he died. Cynthia, now 93, manages to get along quite well alone. Frank would likely be disappointed. As for me, I should probably fly over there and have a Martini or two with the great woman and see if she’s still in good enough shape to tell me again the wonderful stories that would make up an extraordinary book about a fantastic and great woman. If you had ever seen her drive four big horses while sitting so properly up on a high, English style coach, you too would have been as transfixed by her as I always was when I was in her presence.

Oh, my! How I admire her!

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Winding Down But One More Year

Prince Philip, the Duke of Edinburgh, driving a four-in-hand of Cleveland Bays in a dressage test at Windsor Castle in May, 1980 (Photograph by Anne Wakefield-Leck)

No complex resolutions this year, but a few straight-forward ones!
by Charlie Leck

I'm keeping my new year's resolution simple this year and pretty straight-forward and realistic.

First, I’m going to be steadfast about working out all through the coming year. I’ve been working out three times a week with a personal trainer on cardio, weight-lifting and stretching exercises. It’s done wonders for me. I’m going to keep it up!

Second, I’m going to get those hundreds and hundreds of slides in that storage closet in the basement converted to digital photographs and put on disks so the kids can each have them if they want.

Third, I’m going to finish writing a book that I’ve farted around with for the last 5 years. It won't be published, but I’ll know I wrote it as I want it to be written.

I’ve started on the 35mm slide conversion project already. That’s where that photo of me in Calais came from on my blog a couple of days ago (Waiting in Calais). This project deals with photographs from about 30 to 35 years ago and it certainly brings back memories. I won’t over-burden you with presentations of these old photographs, but you’ll occasionally need to reminisce with me here about a few of them.

Anne went on a trip as a spectator in 1980 to the Royal Windsor Horse Show in England. I can tell by the number of photographs she took of Prince Philip that she was infatuated with him, his horses and his driving. The Prince, along with Philip Hoffman of the United States, basically invented the horse-sport of combined driving. I thought the world of Mr. Hoffman and cherish yet the memories I have of my few encounters and drives with him (but that is a story for another day).

My point here is that this trip my wife took to England back then basically changed our lives and, as a result, took us to many incredible places to meet some of the most wonderful people we’ve ever known.

Combined driving is a three day driving event that examines the coordinated skills of driver and horses in three very different tests. It begins with each driver performing a dressage test. The competitors are grouped in single, pair and four-in-hand entries. The dressage portion of the competition is very demanding and requires hours upon hours of drilling and training of both the driver and the horses. I began dabbling (and that is all) in this sport after my wife came home with her exciting photographs. I was never patient enough to spend the required hours learning to be successful at a dressage test. I entered events for the thrill of the second day of the competition. At that I was willing to spend some time practicing.

The cross-country marathon event includes the maneuvering into, through and out of a set of obstacles or hazards on a drive of some distance over a set course through the open countryside. It’s really exciting and fun. Here you can see a four of well trained horses entering one of the obstacles that happens to include water. You can see the marathon vehicle tilting on the side of the bank as they enter, and notice that the driver and his grooms all lean (spike) to the high side to keep the carriage from tilting. On this course the driver and horses will encounter five or six obstacles of varying types and levels of difficulty. Scoring is done by keeping time on each team while it is in those hazards. Outside the hazards, and over the long course, there are sections that must be driven at a walk only and others at a trot. Inside the hazards the driver and horses may go at any speed or gait they wish.

To the left is a photograph of the Swiss team driving through the same water hazard. Notice the gentleman to the left of the driver. He's a referee and it's his job to make sure no violations of the rules occur during the long drive over the cross country course, either while inside the hazards or outside them. I won't go into that long list of rules for you here because I think I might be pushing you all quickly toward the breaking point. The Swiss, Dutch, Germans, Poles and Swedes really have this sport down and always excel at it.

Unquestionably, driving these courses was one of the most exciting and enjoyable sporting adventures in which I ever participated; however, over time, we came to realize how exceptionally hard the sport was on our horses, both in terms of injuring them physically but also in sometimes ruining them mentally. It became an easy decision, once we realized this, to give up participating.

Now, top competitors at the highest levels often go through quite a few horses in the course of a season in trying to keep a single group of four together.

Our steel marathon carriages, or cross-country vehicles, sit now unused and I am no longer such an ardent admirer of the sport. It’s gotten so much more demanding than it was back when Prince Philip and Mr. Hoffman drew up the rules and procedures. I do, however, enjoy watching the dressage competitions on the first day and the stadium or "cones driving" that takes place on the third day of the event. The photo to the left shows one of the competitors driving “the cones” on the third day of the driving competition (that’s Windsor Castle in the background). It's a skill I never had the patience to develop. It takes soft, but strong hands and a great deal of calmness on the part of both the horses and the driver. It's one of the amazing things about the sport that the same horses must come back and do this very delicate bit of driving a day after being driven so wildly over the cross-country course.

Windsor is an extraordinary show and happening and, after Anne brought the photographs home in 1980, I was motivated to join her on a couple of other trips across the pond to see the big show. Great fun!

There are many wonderful exhibits to watch in addition to the four-in-hand driving. The draft horses in the United Kingdom are deeply loved and big crowds gather to watch them perform (as these two big fellows are as they pull a "trade wagon") in an arena in Windsor Park. Spend a week at this fantastic horse show and you'll see ponies of every sort, jumping and hunting horses, trotters pulling sulkies and road carts and, of course, the Queen's incredible Horse Guard (below/left) that always completely wows the crowds.

The Royal Windsor Horse Show is a national treasure in England. The crowds are amazing. There are dozens and dozens of shopping stands and many pavilions for dining. The Queen is easily spotted scurrying about from place to place. She's a real horse-lover and she wants to see as much as she possibly can. She's not surrounded by guards and she can be seen driving her own Land Rover from one part of the grounds to another and sometimes her Corgis are tagging along with her. I do believe that the week of the show is a great week for her.

Now all of this has come about because of a lovely gift that I found under the tree on Christmas morning. My wife gave me a powerful slide-scanner by the German company, SilverFast. It's a beauty and it's helping me move all these photos (gathered over many years) from slides to digital format. It will certainly help me keep one of my three resolutions for 2011.

And, oh yes, how could I forget? There are also donkey or jackass classes to be taken in at Windsor. Three or four arenas have events going on constantly throughout the day. In the evening there are musical shows put on in the main arena and they usually have a horse theme to them. And, they usually conclude with fireworks.

Well, this was certainly a blog of a different sort (as in "horse of a different color") and I apologize to those of you who were bored stiff. To you, and to everyone, I present my wishes that you have a very happy, happy new year.

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Tom Ryder

I felt like a South Dakota farmer whenever I was around him!
by Charlie Leck

No offense, mind you, to South Dakota farmers. I know a number of them and I’m honored to be compared to any one of them; however, I use them here to make a point.

Tom Ryder has up and died on us and it leaves a hole in our collective beings– and it hurts – it hurts real bad!

Many of my regular readers knew Tom Ryder and they too will miss him like crazy. We have our electronic arms around each other at this moment, seeking to comfort each other – and more to come to grips with what our world will be like without Tom Ryder in it.

In this extraordinary world of collecting and driving grand antique carriages, Tom Ryder was the King! His thinking and style made the Carriage Association of America what it is and the impression he left on it will forever be an influence upon that organization.

He was such a gentleman – always a gentleman – and it came easily to him to act the way he did – to be the way he was. He was kind and tolerant and generous. He always had time for conversation with me and he was always patient about the questions I tried to formulate and logically express to him, but with which I struggled so awkwardly.

At heart, I’m a country-bumpkin and it was odd to juxtapose my mannerisms and personality against his. Though I’ve traveled the world wide – and around it – I always felt like I had never left the farm when I was around Tom. His grace and splendid way of expressing himself were legendary in our carriage world.

This man was not one of the Lords, mind you. He was a working class man and spent a good deal of his life as a servant. Doesn’t it seem like more than circumstance or coincidence that one of his long time employers, Jack Seabrook, only died in the last few weeks as well? A team – a mighty partnership – has been taken from us and one can only hope that they are together again, laughing together now as they so often did in life. [I wrote about Jack Seabrook very recently.] In 2001, Tom wrote a book about Jack Seabrook that has a special place in our library: HALF CENTURY OF COACHING (The Driving Career and Carriages of John M. Seabrook).

I’m not going to go into great detail about Tom Ryder in this blog. There will be other times and places for that; and when an obituary makes its appearance, I will point you to it. I’ll just give you a little sketch.

Tom’s best known book is probably ON THE BOXT SEAT. I have a first-edition, signed copy of it sitting here at my elbow. It was first published in 1969 – forty years ago – and, though the carriage world is small, it has been read by thousands who consider it one of the most important books ever published in this particular area of scholarship.

Chauncy Stillman, an exceptionally successful American businessman and a devoted carriage collector, wrote about Tom Ryder in the Foreword to the above mentioned book.

“It is fortunate that that generation of horsemen was attentively observed by a few zealots who absorbed their craft, and thus can transmit the tradition in its entirety. Eminent among these is Mr. Tom Ryder. He spent his youth as a devotee of the harness horse in England, where he frequented the shows and learned the history of every star. His first love was the Hackney Horse – the buxom, blithe, and debonair – and it is through that noblest of harness breeds that my path first crossed his, but he is not blind to the virtues of other breeds as the reader will discover.

"Mr. Ryder is graced with a lively pen that can transmute facts and instruction into the spritely narrative. His thorough knowledge of horsemanship, showmanship, and the accompanying skills of ‘the road’ gives this manual its authority. Any beginner desiring to drive properly and happily will want to own this book, and the experienced devotee will want it to consult on fine points or merely read for sheer pleasure.”

Tom was born in England at a time when the automobile had become king of transportation. Nevertheless, because he had an uncle who was a leading breeder of harness horses in England, he fell in love with the harness horse. He devoted himself to learning all he could about driving and about the history of driving throughout the world. Tom spent time in the military and volunteered to serve in the ‘horsed yeomanry regiment.’ Before going into the service, Tom had put together an outstanding and successful stud and he did a significant amount of showing and nearly daily pleasure drives through the countryside. Through the latter part of the 20th century, he spent his life in North America, showing harness horses and teaching others to show both in Canada and the United States. For years, he edited the Carriage Journal, a publication of the Carriage Association of America, which his daughter continues to edit today.

A decade ago, Tom returned to England to live out the rest of his life in his beloved York countryside. Nevertheless, one person or another, or some organization, was forever flying him back to the states to be a speaker or teacher. Until recently, Tom was happy to make the trips.

Tom Ryder driving a Tandem turnout of Hackney Horses
at the Devon Horse Show in 1965. Tandem driving is
considered the most difficult of all turnouts. These are the
famous Hackney Horses, ‘Dufferin Temptress’ and
‘Dufferin Majorette’ owned by John F. Cuneo of Chicago.
Look at how perfectly and in-time they are moving.

There are voluminous amounts of Tom’s writing available (manuals, periodical articles and texts of speeches) and I can imagine that the Carriage Association will be planning to publish them so they can be made available in book-form for the reading public.

I flew Tom Ryder out here once, to look at one of my carriages and to give me some advice and guidance about restoring it. It was a wonderful moment in our lives to have him at our farm, looking at our horses and chatting with us about our collection of carriages. I’m not dealing in hyperbole here. It is true. It was such an honor to host him, to have him in our home, and to have him meet our friends. We were on our best behavior in order to make this gentleman as comfortable as possible.

I could tell many stories about him, but I’ll keep it to one. Anne and I were spectators at the Devon Horse Show (outside Philadelphia) one year when Tom was judging the Coaching Classes. We had decided not to bring a coach and team that year (for some reason or other) and it was enjoyable just to sit back and watch. One splendid team of Hackney Horses was struggling mightily every time it entered the ring. We were sitting in the stands next to their owner, who had a professional trainer showing his team. Each time the team messed up, the owner became angry and angrier. I leaned over to try to console him and told him what magnificent creatures they were. He took no solace.

So, I played a trump card. The following night the coaching class was going to be for amateur drivers only. His professional would not be allowed to show. I leaned over to the distraught fellow and whispered an offer to him.

“Let my wife drive your horses in that amateur class, and you’ll go home with a blue ribbon.”

He looked at me gruffly. I nodded vigorously and smiled. He leaned forward and spoke boldly to my wife.

“Anne, will you drive my horses in the amateur class tomorrow night. I’ll make sure they are turned-out perfectly for you.”

Of course, Anne was thrilled at the challenge and she turned out early the next evening and drove the four out into the practice ring to get to know them, work them and rehearse them. It was a large class and the ring was crowded. She was cut-off by another competitor as she attempted to enter at a full and glorious trot. In my hands, or those of their professional trainer, the horses would have exploded and been lost for the evening. Anne settled them quickly and brought them again up to a trot.

The judge entered the ring to an introduction by the announcer and applause from the spectators. The first thing he saw as he began to look about were those magnificent Hackney Horses in a thrilling, high-stepping and pounding, full trot. And then he saw my wife on the box with the ribbons and whip in hand. He graciously tipped his hat, smiled widely and bowed ever so slightly to her.

I turned to the owner and smiled at him and winked.

“The class is won,” I promised.

And it was. Anne was thrilled to bring the blue ribbon up into the grandstands to present it to the proud owner.

Tom always had a hard time resisting a team of splendid Hackney Horses or the face of a pretty woman.

Now, too many of the dear, kind friends we’ve made over the years are taking leave of us all and making their way out among the twinkling, laughing stars. I know, though, that they are at peace and resting out there from all their earthly labors.

Tom Ryder's obituary is published on-line at the web site of
The Carriage Association of America.
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In addition to numerous instructional manuals and magazine articles, Mr. Ryder’s books include:

THE HIGH STEPPER (first published in 1961 and reprinted many times)

ON THE BOX SEAT (first published in 1960 and reprinted many times)

THE HISTORY OF THE COACHING CLUB, 1871-2000 (2000)

A HALF CENTURY OF COACHING: John M. Seabrook (2001)