“He beat me, the little bugger!” Kevin Sr. says, undoing the chin strap of his light blue helmet. A proud grin spreads across his wind-weathered face. He stands, arms crossed, holding his whip. Black block letters of “KS” are sewn on the upper sleeve of his shirt; he’s Kevin Switzer Sr., known as “Big Switz,” a top driver and trainer among Maine’s harness racing horsemen.
Kevin Switzer Jr., or “Little Switz,” his only child and protégé, stands close by, sleeve also bearing “KS,” only his is in white. Both wear nylon uniforms of light blue and black shirts with white pants. Race three of 10 today just ended: Big Switz was fourth, Little Switz, third.
Harness racing involves a sulky, or bike, made of metal, two bicycle tires and a seat. The sulky is harnessed to a horse and, driver in seat, a race is twice around a half-mile track. Maine horsemen race from April to January at the state’s two commercial tracks, Scarborough Downs and Bangor Raceway, and during the summer months at agricultural fairs across the state. If racing is a full time job, horsemen will also truck to Massachusetts, New Jersey, New York and other states.
While recent generations are rarely aware that harness racing even exists, some in the industry claim it was the largest spectator sport at one time. Huge grandstands packed with thousands of fans, and racing was a form of entertainment for many. Tracks also provided an outlet for gambling. But fans continue to dwindle in number every year. These monumental wooden grandstands now sit empty, dated and decrepit.
Yet there are a few exceptions. On the final day of last year’s Fryeburg Fair, it was hard to find a seat. The air was warm from sun rays. Strands of wispy clouds hung in a perfect blue sky. The paddock, sitting just south of the grandstand, lining the track, served as the hub of horsemen. Drivers and grooms moved busily in a central area amid two adjacent white barns. Workers from KDK Standardbreds lingered around the drivers’ lounge door, a room in a trailer-like building set back between the stables.
The KDK name felt like it would be a good fit when thought of a few years back. “K” No. 1 represents the father, Kevin Sr. Fourteen years ago he married second wife Denise McNitt, the “D” — a spitfire of a woman and racehorse vet called “Doc.” “K” No. 2 is Kevin Jr., born to Patricia Switzer. With Denise on an emergency call, Patricia is here as a groom for her son and ex-husband.
“Oh yeah, time heals all wounds,” Kevin Sr. says of his past with Patricia. “We all drove up together today,” he finishes, smiling. They divorced when he met Denise. Kevin Jr. was 4.
“It wasn’t always easy growing up,” Kevin Jr., or “Kevee,” says, running a hand over his forehead and buzz cut dark hair. His complexion is darker than his father’s, and uneven, his eye color almost black.
“But yeah, it’s better now,” he says, looking down, digging the tip of his boot into dirt. “We all help out with the horses.”
Last year was his first year driving and training horses for KDK. But he’s been jogging horses around the Cumberland Fairground track — where KDK Standardbreds stable is — since age 6. His father bought him his first horse when he was 14. After the horse won nine races in a row, Kevin Jr. earned a significant allowance — and was “hooked.” At 16, it was either horses or football. He chose horses, and now only 20, he’s regarded on the track as a tough competitor, taught by one of the best, his “old man.” But life as a horseman will not always be easy.
Few drivers can earn a decent living on the hope that their horses will win races. The top five horses will take home some money from each race, but it can range anywhere from $500 to $1,500 plus per race. Amounts depend on a person’s involvement with the winning horse, whether it be as a driver, trainer or owner.
In 2005, Maine voters passed a state referendum allowing slot machines at race tracks, subject to local approval. Bangor residents approved, 500 were put in at the track, and when a percentage of the profit was appropriated to harness racing by the state, money coming into the industry almost doubled — including purse winnings. With the possibility of more slots on the horizon, Kevin Jr. is betting his earnings will only go up.
A trumpet sounds in the distance, signaling the start of today’s last race. The starting car — a late model white Cadillac — pulls down the stretch with its back end inches from the track. It’s weighed down by an outward extending white metal gate which the horses pace up to at the start of the race.
Horsemen stop working in the paddock only at race time. They make their way out of the barns to line up along a white picket fence circling the track, a long row of elbows resting on it. Kevin Jr. — done driving for the day — stands with Elizabeth, a groom for KDK and his fiancée. They both light up Marlboro Lights, and Kevin Jr. predicts the old man’s horse doesn’t have a chance in this 10th race of the day. As the horses pass by on their first lap all are quiet and watch. But tensions rise as they pass again, almost to the finish line. Drivers’ whips come out and they yelp and holler rounding the corner. Fists pound on the fence, the roar from the grandstand ascends. Kevin and Elizabeth drop back from the fence.
“Fourth! That’s why they call him the Money Man!” says Little Switz.
Bethany Leonard and Jodie Goodnough are both 2007 graduates of the Salt Institute for Documentary Studies.