The Bluegrass and Beyond

I first came to the Churchill Downs infield as a college student working for The Associated Press. My story described it as “a place where you are liable to see almost anything – except perhaps the Kentucky Derby.”

I’m sure that by Saturday afternoon parts of the infield will look much as they did on my first visit 30 years ago.

A few thousand rowdy college students and good ol’ boys and girls will get liquored up, lose some of their clothing and, if the weather forecast is accurate, slide around in the mud between thunderstorms.

But some things have changed.

For one, you can actually see the races, thanks to several giant video screens.  For another, the infield is smaller than it used to be – and seems to be getting smaller every year.

A big chunk disappeared when Churchill Downs built a turf track inside the dirt oval. Then temporary tent-topped buildings were put up along the track’s front side for big-ticket corporate entertaining.

This year, yet another chunk of territory has been claimed for high rollers with the creation of the Infield Club.  Tables with folding wooden chairs are arranged beneath tents on grass or brick pavers. There are many bars and food stands, a long line of betting windows and a fancy stage for the band.

The tunnels going into the infield are no longer filled only with people in jeans and shorts carrying tents, folding chairs and coolers. Now, they share the space with men in coats and ties and women in pretty dresses, fancy hats and shoes that wouldn’t last anytime in a drunken mud slide.

Even on the infield’s wild side, around the third turn, the decadence and depravity seems like it will be, well, more organized. There’s an activities area called the CPO — Chief Party Officer — with a dunking booth, twister games and loud music.

(Still, just in case, National Guardsmen on Friday carried a stack of riot shields marked “military police” to a nearby bunker.)

There’s no view of the track from the new fenced-in Infield Club, although you can see the back of the tote board and the top of the grandstand’s famous Twin Spires.

Infield Club admission cost $50 on Oaks day, $150 on Derby day or $175 for both. That’s steeper than infield general admission ($25 on Oaks day, $40 on Derby day), but still a bargain compared to other seating options.

“It’s very nice in here; very comfortable,” said Eileen Hughes of Trenton, N.J., who was here with her husband Douglas for their eighth-straight Derby weekend.

In many past years, the Hughes joined the infield masses and hoped it wouldn’t rain. On this Oaks day, as the clouds kept getting darker, they were feeling good about their investment.

“We looked at clubhouse seats and bleachers with no backs,” Hughes said. “But this is much nicer – and less expensive.”

When they were “young and wild” and growing up in Louisville, sisters Doreen Cornelius and Kena Diggins spent several Derby days in the infield.  They were back Friday for the first time in many years, this time wearing their Oaks day best.

Diggins, who now lives in Pittsburgh, was here for the survivors’ parade that is part of an event by Susan G. Komen for the Cure and Horses and Hope to raise money for breast cancer research and awareness. Churchill Downs is donating between $100,000 and $135,000 to the effort, based on attendance.

“The facilities are wonderful for being outside,” said Cornelius, who was clearly most impressed with the Infield Club’s fancy restroom trailers, with their hardwood floors and real ceramic facilities.  “For women, that’s a major thing.”

But I had to wonder: will the traditional infield crowd someday be squeezed out by creeping gentrification?  Will average joes be able to keep coming to the Derby?

Ken Hanvey of Belleville, Ill., thinks so. He and two buddies have been coming with their canopy and lawn chairs to the same infield spot since 1992.

That was the same year they formed a partnership, SMF of Southern Illinois, to renovate and sell a house.  “We decided the ‘S’ would stand for either smart or stupid, depending on how well we did,” Hanvey said. “For the record, it was ‘stupid.’”

But while the house renovation venture may not have made them much money, it created a Derby tradition they don’t see ending anytime soon.

They said the crowd in their corner of the infield hasn’t changed much in 17 years.  “We have a good time every year we come,” said Gerald Todd.

And why shouldn’t they?  From their spot along the back fence, they can actually see part of the track. If they look beyond the portable toilets, they have a good view of a video screen.

“And we’ve got security right here,” Todd said, pointing to the police and paramedics’ bunker nearby, “just in case things get ugly.”

Click on each photo to enlarge it.