"The Littlest RaceHorse"
Late October, 1962. The US and the Soviet Union stand toe to toe, poised to unleash their nuclear arsenals over the deployment of offensive missiles in Cuba – a mere 90 miles off the coast of Florida. This is the Cold War, suddenly too hot to touch. Apprehension flows relentlessly down the irrational corridors of chaos and panic – personal choices driven by the political realities of a world gone mad. A pair of kids, suddenly cast adrift by the week’s escalating events, find themselves forced on a journey not of their own choosing – while the adults around them ponder the longest week of their lives. Forced to finally choose between the past and perhaps a very different future…one that seemed to share an improbable link to a young Thoroughbred horse halfway across the country. Lives that were stolen on a Thursday – and returned the following week. Irreversibly changed.
And some 2000 miles away, one Bobby Lee Hancock and his common-law wife, Fennel McCartney. A farmer, a horse breeder – a man grown hard by difficult times and unforgiving choices. And on that farm, a young Thoroughbred colt, seemingly doomed by the peculiarities of his own birth. Or so the old customs had always dictated. “Fen, I’m a farmer ya know. Shoulda hit that damn thing in the head with a hammer when it was born. Hell, next thing you’ll havin’ me raisin’ rats and corn weevils! And that damn Kennedy’s gonna get us killed maybe…or worse!”
But the young President had already moved beyond the brink of a final apocalypse – opening a second, perhaps more volatile door by questioning the very core of American values. Civil rights, the desires and ambitions of the country’s largest minority – women; and the wider responsibilities inherent to leading the world’s greatest democracy through an era restless for change. The 1950’s were the calm between very different storms – one engulfing the world, the second threatening the nation. But often, that‘change’ was personal and highly private as well, especially for children caught in a sudden and seemingly unrelenting tempest. And just as often, the salvation, perhaps life’s balance itself comes with four legs and a tail. Just a horse? Maybe not.
Cover Art:
© Sandra Mesrine, La Chambre Noire Studio Photography
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