By Jim Ross, Guest Commentary

Last year I was excited to hear of a new book coming out on our beloved Dan Patch called “Crazy Good” by Charles Leerhsen. This year I got a signed copy and even had my picture taken with the author at Dan Patch Days. Anyone with an appreciation of history has to be excited to read about our namesake, M.W. Savage, and have the legendary pacer’s story re-told.

Having read it, Leerhsen’s version is at times cleverly worded then poorly written; part revisionist history then traditional lore.

In 1957 Fred Sasse also wrote a book about Dan Patch. A book Leerhsen calls “appallingly bad.” He criticizes Sasse as basically being a brown noser as Sasse places a positive spin on every aspect of Savage’s life. This earlier version is reflective of that era’s more civilized style of writing.

As one-sided as Sasse’s point of view is, Leerhsen speaks to the other extreme, most often depicting Savage in a negative light and suggesting conflict. He is sassy and disrespectful, also a style reflective of the time.

He can eloquently bring you back to the era and describes it as “a golden age of sports … ladies hats and bull****.” Leerhsen is entertaining and down right intriguing when he describes his quest to find Dan Patch’s grave site. He’s off the mark as far as location, but nonetheless hip deep in the Credit River, where he drinks some, baptizes himself, then realizes that’s where Dan Patch “bathed, peed, and shat.” But alas “it’s always fun to trespass, especially in middle age.” He describes the experience of traffic jams from when horses were the main method of transportation as a way to get kicked, bit or peed on. Back then equine bodily functions must have factored in greatly to a person’s daily routine.

But Leerhsen’s liberal use of the dash – I counted eight on one page and most have three or more – creates a herky-jerky style that forces one to often re-read the sentence in order to understand the point. The flow of the story is often interrupted. He starts the sentence, introduces a new thought heading in a different direction, and then completes the original idea of the sentence. And sometimes the conclusion of the sentence does not support the beginning. Such as: “Signs of a leveling off of Dan’s physical ability became evident…when…he could manage no better than 2:01½ over a wet track…” Wouldn’t a slow time over a wet track make sense? These illogical conclusions occur frequently throughout the book.

But what do I know? I’m just the son of a grocer from Milbank, South Dakota and not an East coast screenwriter wannabe with attitude. OK, maybe a little attitude.

Leerhsen also drops titillating literary sound bites like “possibly gay stallion” and writes that Savage “employed more than 200 women … and he took a special, and not exactly paternal, interest in them.” Accusations such as these are unsubstantiated, scurrilous and presumptive.

If you can get around Leerhsen’s constant ripping on Mr. Savage and his never giving him his due, the legendary tale does lie beneath. And there are some nuggets that were news to me, such as the colors that Dan raced under and his stable nickname.

This is foremost a tale of an awesome standardbred, but also partly a tale of fortune lost, early death and priceless beautiful landmarks lost to the ages. And so in the end, it is truly a sad tale.

But whom do we believe? The Sasse version, or the Sassy version? What kind of man was Mr. Savage? A self-absorbed snake oil salesman, or a brilliant driven businessman? I think perhaps, a lot of both. I think it’s fair to ask what did Mr. Savage ever do for his city? I wish there was a park in his name from land that he donated. I regret that the keys to his majestic farm (nicknamed the Taj Mahal) were not handed over like some suburban Glensheen or Swedish American Institute. But is it fair to hold that against him?

And what is Mr. Savage’s legacy to his 21st Century namesake? I fear it is the same as what he left to his family and his deprived heirs: a squandered fortune, pipe dreams, and not enough time on the planet to rehabilitate either.

So let’s continue to embrace the beautiful bay colt. Revere his dominance of the sport of kings, admire his work ethic, emulate his temperament, and appreciate all of his human-esque qualities. Let’s build a statue, erect a monument and give speeches.

The king is dead.

Long live his amazing story.

(Jim Ross is a resident of Savage. Guest commentaries are one of several opinion and commentary pieces appearing regularly in this newspaper.)