From the Depression to Joy: The 1936 4th of July Farm Horse Race

Let me tell you a story from the Great Depression to give you a little optimism today. I think there are a ton of folks who could use it right now.

The year is 1936.

My grandmother, Lillian, was one of seven children growing up on a small farm in a town called Windfall in Pennsylvania, though there was no "town" to speak of. Directions were still given entirely using this or that landmark or tree, rather than street signs.

Her dairy farming family had no tractor, no car. Horses were their only mode of transportation, and to do the heavy work like plowing on the farm. They had a team of two horses to fill these needs, and in 1936, one of those horses was a beautiful black mare named Bell.

Bell was calm and gentle, and Lillian's older brother Lial used to ride her around the farm.

Writing about this, my grandma said that Bell "was always ready to go, even after pulling the plow or doing other work around the farm. I think Lial and Bell understood each other and were happy that way."

That summer of '36, the family heard there was to be a farm horse race at the Troy Fairgrounds on the Fourth of July. The main requirement to compete was that the horse must be kept on a farm.

Lial decided to ride Bell in that race. The work on the farm still needed to be done, but Lial and Bell practiced, when they could, once chores were over. Everyone was excited about going to the big day at the Fairgrounds.

When it arrived, Lial rode Bell from Windfall to Troy, 6 miles from the family farm, starting early that morning for the afternoon race.

When they got there, they got their first look at the other horses in the race, and started to wonder how they'd make out.

Lial knew Bell was fast, but most of the other horses in the big race were tall and long-legged: saddle horses, with light duties. My grandmother's family didn't even own a saddle. Lial had always just ridden Bell bareback, as he was doing that day.

For the first time, Lial and the family considered that there was a chance Bell might not win. And then they overheard scoffing comments in the horse barn before the race:

"She'll never do anything. She's too fat."

"Look, she has heavy work shoes on."

"She's going to be ridden without a saddle. No way she can win."

Bell did have heavy work shoes on--the kind she wore all the time, the ones that Lillian's "Pa" had shod her with himself. She was round and muscled--she pulled hard on that plow every day for the family, and she was fed well to fuel it.

Lillian and most of the other kids posted up at the fence near the track, with Pa and her younger brother, Lloyd, watching from the grandstand.

"They're off!" was the call, and from the beginning it was clear that Bell and Lial were doing well.

Beautiful, black Bell stood out as she put her all into the race, with Lial riding bareback like he and Bell were one being. The family's hearts were bursting with pride, and hope.

Now, who do you think came in first in that race? Not just by a few feet, or a length, but way ahead?

It was Bell and Lial.

Those racers and saddle horses with the light shoes, and light duties, had no chance against a boy and a real work horse with endurance and power earned from long work days--a horse and rider who were racing for the pure joy of it.

On their way home, all 6 miles, the family couldn't help but call out "We won! We won!" as they drove past their neighbor's homes in their wagon.

After the excitement was over, life on the farm resumed as usual. Lial and Bell still rode together once chores were done, when they could, though they didn't enter any more races. They were too busy working on the farm and living life together.

53 years after that 4th of July Race, my grandma Lillian wrote about it in my mother's horse industry newspaper--still a vivid memory of hope, and joy, and triumph over long odds and small-minded comparison in the midst of a hardscrabble Depression-Era childhood. I've tried to keep most of her plain and pure language here in re-telling it to you.

And here's what I hope you'll take from this, besides some hope and joy of your own: comparison can be a thief of joy if you let it, so don't.

Your uniqueness is your power.

Lial and Bell didn't let the comparisons against the conventional wisdom--those riding horses with the light shoes pegged for easy victory--keep them from running their race. And it was their determination, hard-earned power and endurance, and seamless teamwork that were the strengths that propelled them to a decisive victory.

They didn't let their history determine their future (you're a farm kid and workhorse, not a jockey and racehorse). They wrote their future themselves, by staying in the present moment with optimism and the joy of the experience.

That's what I hope you do, too.

I'm Jess Sargus. With 22+ years in law, business, and combat sports, I've become known for dynamic, transformative talks on mental performance mastery, mindset shifts, and neuroplasticity. As the founder of The Legal Athlete, I coach high-performance individuals and organizations, and empower audiences to burn down their limiting beliefs, harness the power of small but powerful mindset shifts, and train their brains to become the people they’ve always wanted to be.

If you're ready for some extra clarity, support, and accountability to master your mindset and execute under pressure, or if you need a high-performance speaker for your group to inspire and energize your audience with high-impact, actionable tools they can start using immediately, DM me today on LinkedIn or grab a slot on my calendar to set up a free exploratory call to get started!