by Bob Carson

Editor’s Note: The USTA website is pleased to present freelance writer Bob Carson and his popular “Outside the Box” features. This monthly series is a menu of outlandish proposals presented with a wink — but the purpose behind them is serious. The views contained in this column are that of the author alone, and do not necessarily represent the opinions or views of the United States Trotting Association.

There is a strange charm in the thoughts of a good legacy, or the hopes of an estate, which wondrously removes or at least alleviates the sorrow that men would otherwise feel for the death of friends. — Miguel de Cervantes (1547-1616)

Bob Carson

Several years ago, while at a conference of high school teachers, I crossed paths with a strange character. We only met once. If he told me his name, I quickly forgot it. I do remember that he looked like Ben Franklin, a round fellow with a shiny bald pate and stringy grey hair that dangled down to his shoulders. While revolutionary Ben favored smallish spectacles perched on his pointy nose, this guy wore heavy glasses with black frames. During the few minutes we spoke, he mentioned that after a very long career, this was his final year in the classroom.

I asked what he planned to do when he left teaching. He said he would spend a lot of time at the harness racetrack because wagering on harness racing was his lifelong passion. He said he had a regular table in the clubhouse and that next year, without papers to grade, he would get to the harness track more often. We chatted for a few more minutes, mostly about harness racing, and then said goodbye.

I’m sure our brief encounter would have faded from my memory but after he waddled away, another teacher quickly strolled up, she leaned forward and she spoke in a whisper while glancing from side to side.

Autumn Ryan graphic

“You know, that man you were just talking to,” she twitched her head at him, “he doesn’t need to teach, and never did. He’s rich, really rich. The rumor is that his money came from an inheritance. There was some sort of feud that left him estranged from his family. He’s a lifelong bachelor and lives in a tiny cottage with a few cats. He’s very secretive, a good teacher, algebra and calculus, I think, friendly enough but, well…odd.”

Why she felt the need to share the gossip, how much was true and what happened to the fellow — remain mysteries. However, I thought about the little interlude while reading an article in New Yorker Magazine.

At approximately the same time of my brief meeting with the harness loving Ben Franklin look-alike, a 36-year-old rare book dealer named Michael Dunn and his mother moved from Canada, just across the border to the tiny hamlet of Derby, Vermont. Born and raised in Montreal, the only child of a well-to-do family, Dunn was originally a stockbroker and increased the family fortune with shrewd investing. Dunn was a man with many passions. He loved old books and he began to amass a collection of 20th century Canadian paintings. His other hobbies were collecting duck decoys and antique watches.

After his mother died he continued to live alone in the modest house they had shared. A lifelong bachelor, Michael Dunn was not eccentric. In Derby he was a gregarious, friendly man who participated in local government and was a member of the local museum board. He drove conservative cars and traveled economy class on vacations. Michael Dunn had many friends; there was nothing unusual about him — until he died.

When he passed away he left his entire estate, over $10.5 million, to the Museum of Modern Art. This legacy gift from Michael Dunn was extraordinarily large, but leaving money to a lifelong hobby or passion is not extraordinarily unusual.

A few years ago, I visited a winter training center in Florida to work on a story about a Canadian trainer. We sat in rickety lawn chairs beneath a palm tree and watched his horses hang their heads out of the stalls.

The gentleman had spent well over 50 years in the harness racing game. Harness racing was his life’s passion. He talked of long ago races as if they were yesterday. He talked of his horses as if they were his children. He was worried about the future of harness racing. He gave the aura of a happy, contented man. Our afternoon together passed quickly. We shook hands and said goodbye. As I drove away it occurred to me how meeting people with a link to the history of harness racing is amazing, like stepping into a time machine. I do not know if this veteran trainer was a wealthy man, it’s often hard to tell, and of course, I did not ask. I do know that he deeply loved the sport of harness racing and that no one is immortal.

Public radio and public television are wonderful organizations and have a strong appeal to many of us. Much of their funding comes from donations they solicit in annoying (but necessary) pledge drives. I am not suggesting pledge drives to help harness racing (not yet). However, in recent years public stations have started low key pleas to their viewers and listeners, supporters who have received years of pleasure from public television and radio. The request they make is simple. “Please remember us as you set up distribution of your estate. Consider making a donation or legacy gift in your will.”

The money is out there. And, in what seems like science fiction to most of us, it is not easy to give away massive fortunes. The traditional routes in distributing legacy funds are to give money to your alma mater for a library, a telescope, a garden, a stadium or a course of study. Last year 65 gifts of $5 million or more went to institutions of higher education. Some givers get more specific. Paul G. Allen, a co-founder of Microsoft, pledged $26 million to help Washington State University build its School for Global Animal Health, which conducts research on diseases transmitted from animals to humans. People with ridiculous amounts of money can give it to ridiculous beneficiaries. They try to save the world, save the whales or save a small diner where they drank coffee every morning. They can give it to the waitress who poured the coffee or they can fund a documentary filmmaker.

Undoubtedly, harness racing has people who are approaching the finish line and have assets to distribute. They may have received great pleasure from trotters and pacers. They may have raced horses, or they may have simply watched them race. They may want to help. We can use help. We could use legacy funding for non-profit issues like medical insurance, assistance for poverty stricken members, scholarships, internships, drug research, horse retirement, historical locations that requires preservation, promotion, etc.

Occasionally we should remind people that legacy gifts to harness racing are possible. In preparation, we must establish a place or places to send these legacy gifts. The fund destinations could be state, national or even international. The legal hoops may involve setting up a tax exempt fund with a board to oversee the fund and sign off on how the money is distributed.

Imagine someone like Michael Dunn, or the elderly Canadian trainer, or the pseudo Ben Franklin, is lurking in the shadows. We do not know this person, but he or she loved our game and has ten million, twenty million, a billion dollars, who knows? They want to put their money to good use. Imagine that this person chooses us. Imagine we receive a knock on the door from a lawyer with the news that a fortune was heading our way, a fortune that could be used in so many productive ways in our sport.

Harness racing should not be afraid to ask and we should be prepared to receive.