Frederick Aloysius Crowley, professional jockey, 1912 - 1959
Frederick Thomas Crowley, Sr.,1924-1978
Frederick Thomas Crowley, Jr., 1948- (writer)
On
many late summer, Saturday mornings we would ride our bikes to the
end of my street, West Mill Road in Flourtown, Pennsylvania, stop at
Stenton Avenue, look right to the bridge over Wissahickon Creek and
beyond to the huge barns where the hay was stored, then left to the
horse barns where jockeys were exercising their horses inside on the
indoor track, then, straight ahead to the sweeping lawns, majestic
trees, and long, curving driveway to the Widener estate. Ahhhhh,
what shall we do today? Fish in the creek? Sneak into the hay barns
and jump on the hay? Drive over to see the horses and see how close
we can get before the head trainer comes out and chases us away? No.
today we will try to sneak into the Widener's guest house! We knew
that this meant hiding our bikes and hiking through the woods in a
long sweep around the main house and come up to the guest house from
the other side so as not to be seen by the many gardeners and
caretakers working on the estate grounds.
Not
a bad way to start the day in 1958. I had no idea then that my life,
past, present and future would link me to or draw me back to the
Widener's farm and property. I did not know then that my
grandfather, Frederick Aloysius Crowley had been a jockey and rode
for Mr. Widener when he was only 15 years old. I did not know that
in May, 1964, at the age of 15, I would deliberately crash a Cadillac
into a tree on the Widener estate, totaling it, and then walk the 1.5
miles home down West Mill Road to climb a tree and sneak back into my
bedroom.
Despite
my stray from normalcy at such a young age, I loved the Widener
estate for many reasons; Hope, inspiration, dreams, love of the
outdoors and most of all, the freedom it gave me to roam vast acres
of land, undetected by day or night, to escape what was going on at
my house where I had three sisters, a tired, worn-out, and
overwhelmed mother, and an alcoholic abusive father.
As
I would build my life through the 1960's through 2005, I would always
keep the image of the Widener estate in my mind as a safe, wonderful,
comfortable image of success that I would try to emulate. In the
most important ways, I have succeeded. I have a wife who has stood
by me for over 40 years, two wonderful children, who are married with
children, my five grandchildren, and am retired in Maine where I have
been headed since 1958 when we would come to Camden for a summer
visit as tourists and later, with my father, as a sailor.
Notes
for reference:
I
have researched the Widener who owned the property while I was
trespassing there. He was George Dunton Widener, Jr. His father,
GDW, Sr. was lost on the Titanic. GDW, Jr. died in 1971, the same
year I got out of the US Navy and married Nelle Carta Garofalo.
The
Widener properties are now called “Erdenheim Farm” and have been
restired to host weddings and other functions. The horse barn is
even bigger than I remembered and they now raise, among other
animals, horses and cattle: Belted Galloways, a breed I see every day
in Camden, Maine.
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