June 10, 2023
My final stop was Red Gate Farm and Greyhound’s grave. As a writer, one of the most significant parts of my process is to walk, stand, breathe, feel, and experience the places where the people and horses I'm writing about lived, worked, visited, etc. I'm not alone in this, I've talked to other authors who write about the past that feel the same way. It's not really something I can explain but being where they were, helps me to understand and capture their story. Red Gate Farm is one of two farms owned by Baker that have not been razed and/or developed. It is the only farm still intact that housed Greyhound, albeit briefly.
       Red Gate Farm is located north of St. Charles. It is small-a home, some fields, and a few barns- but thick with history. I wish I could have met with the owners but still, enjoyed my self-guided tour of the barns and of course spent some time paying my respects to the great one himself, Greyhound.

       I contacted Lori Cooke, one of the owners of Red Gate to ask permission to visit.  Unsure of exactly when I'd be able to go to Red Gate, I wasn't able to give much notice when I planned to visit and unfortunately Lori wasn't able to meet with me. She did however welcome me to come out for a self-guided tour which I was thrilled to do. 
       My primary objective was to visit Greyhound's grave. It is maintained by the Cookes and well cared for. The monument Baker erected decades ago stands over the four main horse graves: Greyhound, Labrador, Winnipeg, and Volo Song. Still in the information collecting stage on Baker and St. Charles (vs. reading and writing), I didn't yet know the significance of the the other three horses. I later learned Labrador was Baker's first champion, Winnipeg was Baker's first two-minute horse (a pacer), and Volo Song was a top trotter who regrettably died young after an accident. But it was Greyhound I came to see and I spent the most time lingering over his grave, trying to imagine this piece of land some sixty-five years ago when Baker first made arrangements for Greyhound to be buried there when the time came. 

       A man, I believe an employee, came out and greeted me. He'd been expecting me. He couldn't tell me a lot of history but welcomed me to have a look around the property and to feel free to take pictures. The barns and house were there in Baker's day though the house has been added on to. I recognized the layout from a 1939 film I'd seen at the St. Charles Historical Society. The film showed Greyhound during one of his "Greyhound Day" parties that Baker held each year. He invited people from the community and from the sport of harness racing. Hundreds of people came to see Greyhound and the other horse guests of honor. 
       In the film, which is in color, the barns are gray with white trim. Presumably Baker had not yet had everything painted to match his stable colors. All buildings would later be painted white with red trim which is how they are maintained today. The film is on YouTube HERE.

       Please enjoy my pictures from Red Gate Farm below:

An excerpt from my travel journal:
June 8, 2023
The traffic thinned considerably once I moved off I94 to I294 and eventually onto I88 traveling west of Chicago. It had been a long time since I’d driven that piece of 94 that goes around Chicago, the construction combined with the erratic drivers and the filthy air left me longing for what I’d left behind—the open expanse of horse country--fields of Kentucky bluegrass lined by black board fences. Still early June, the pastures would be full of mares and foals—some still new and spindly legged, some older as Greyhound would have been this time of year some 90 years ago. An older colt paired up with a best friend, playing hard as colts do and maybe turning some heads as he unwound his long legs and developed that ground-covering trot he’d one day be known for.
                I pulled off the interstate at an exit that held a couple gas stations and an enormous outlet mall. I rolled my eyes at the idea of it—a sprawling monster of a structure created by an economy that required people to never feel as if they had enough stuff—always driven to want more—the next new thing, the best shiny object, the latest fashion trends. Brick and concrete filled with loads of crap that would sooner rather than later likely find its way to a landfill. I scowled at the entrance to the mall. Then, as I drove past, I wondered briefly if there was anything I needed. Maybe I could find a good bargain. I shook my head, disgusted at my still thoroughly intact consumerist programming. Seriously, Cheryl. Just. No.
                My truck nosed its way onto the streets outside of Batavia. The wide, multi-lane roads were not crowded but the sheer size and density of the infrastructure told me they took on a lot of commuter traffic come rush hour. There was an interesting mix  in this area, as if parts of it were trying to move toward the future while others lingered in the past. Areas of manufacturing that likely built up in the time of Greyhound, surrounded housing developments that looked to be from the 60s or 70s. Further down the road, subdivisions filled with multi-level, boxy, oversized houses popular for the past few decades sprung up across from older neighborhoods and kitty-corner from a farmer’s field. Tucked between and below a massive overpass, uncomfortably close to a busy bypass was farm house that had probably been there for over a century. Just past a narrow stand of trees, an acre or two of dirt housed half a dozen horses.
                

    As we (that is, me and my ever-present travel companion, Boedy) approached Saint Charles, I searched for anything that would have been familiar to Colonel Baker on this piece of road. There was nothing I could identify that would have been there in the early 1950s before he passed away, let alone in the decades before when purchased the land he owned in the area or built his Baker Hotel, or visited his beloved Greyhound, with carrot pieces spoiling the clean lines of his suit as they bulged in his pockets. I wondered if he’d be happy or sad. His goal had always been to bring people to his beloved home town. They were here, with all the noise and traffic we’ve all become so accustomed to but what would the Colonel say? I get a feeling deep in my belly and I feel that he was not the type that would stand in the way of progress. Things can’t move forward and also remain the same. If the people weren’t here, the town would have died a long time ago. It’s a catch 22—survival depends on change but when something changes, doesn’t that also mean the part you wish to preserve, must also change?

June 11, 2023
The best place to find the world as the Colonel knew it has to be his hotel, the Hotel Baker. It looks much as it did in his day, with added modern touches like security cameras, electronic exit signs, and wifi routers. The hotel is beautiful, it is easy to imagine people in the attire of the 30s and 40s walking the narrow hallways or, dressed in their finest for a party in the Rainbow Room. I took a lot of pictures.

          Hotel Baker opened in 1929. Known as the "Show Place" or "Gem" of the Fox River, the hotel drew guests from all around. Today it is a popular wedding venue. As I strolled the halls I was surprised to discover it had been visited by many famous people. Of interest to me were of course Donnie Wahlberg of NKOTB and Davy Jones of the Monkees. I grew up loving both those groups and still list to a LOT of Monkees music!
          I'll let the pictures speak for themselves. Please enjoy them below. 

Next stop is Red Gate Farm, where Greyhound is buried.