Impact (Mar 1972)

mine, you got time to call the studios and tell them I’ll do character parts. Call Thalberg — he always liked me!” “Absolutely, Blur, baby,’ chirped the agent, almost forgetting himself that Thalberg hadn’t taken calls for over 30 years. “‘T’ll get on it, pronto!” Exit agent. “Siddown, kid!” said Blaze, in a whinny I’d heard say much more dramatic things. As I sat, I tried not to notice the lopsided horse-wig that spilled fake hair over his aging brow. “Did ya bring me a cigar?” he asked, acting like a little kid who’d been sent to bed without supper, only to be visited later by a bananasmuggling daddy. “*T didn’t know you smoked them!”’ I said. He didn’t in his movies. Still I was glad I hadn’t, imagining threeinch headlines: “AGED WONDER HORSE SUCCUMBS FROM INTERVIEWER’S CIGAR!”’ Shrugging off the disappointment, the graying Black Blur began to unfold his story: *“As you know, I was foaled and raised in the slums of Philadelphia. My father pulled ice, my mother gave rides. Boy, I was some wild colt in those days, always getting into scrapes. Once, a few friends and I covered each other in wax and posed as a merry-go-round. We cleaned up plenty from that, until somebody said, ‘Where’s the poles?? And when I wasn’t foolin’ around, I was reading: ‘Black Beauty’, ‘Seabiscuit’, — all the classics. Then, at supper, I’'d act out the parts for my folks. My father thought it was silly — said I'd be better off playing more practical games which involved pulling ice. Then he’d take out a cigar butt he’d almost stepped on, light up and talk about California, an ice-free state, where horses just lazed around and ate warm grass. Then he’d nod off to sleep mumbling, ‘San Diego, San Francisco, Palm Springs . . .’ “So I ran away to California. Well, not exactly ‘ran’ away; I stole a bicycle. Not one of the easier vehicles for a horse to ride. Sometimes I’d pedal with my front feet, and when I got tired I'd turn around and pedal with my back feet. steering with my tail and using a mirror to see where I was going. I must have been some crazy sight on the highway. ‘Finally, I reached the Coast. And as luck would have it, Bernie, my nogood agent, saw me pedalling backwards down Wiltshire Boulevard. He told me the movies were desperate for horses with moxie and got me a screen test at Metro. When they asked my name, I told’ them: Blaze — the Black Blur! Of course, that wasn’t my real name! But did you ever hear a wonder-horse called Aaron Blazenberg? “They started me out in posses. But I kept getting ahead of all the other horses, and sometimes I even caught up to the bad guy when I wasn’t supposed to. So they made me the bad guy’s horse. But then nobody could catch me. Outlaws that history said had been apprehended now got clean away when they rode me. They had to rewrite the stories. **Well, the only thing they could do was make me the hero’s horse. Heroes caught everybody! And d’ya know, I was the first black hero-horse in pictures? Before that, always white! But those silver sissies wouldn’t do any of the stunts! Their contracts read: ‘No chasm jumps!’ Sure, they looked good and they pranced up a storm, but ask for something a little tricky and they ran and called the ASPCA! “Me, I’d do anything — fall down, act lame, drink poison. But my specialty was running through fire! No, it didn’t hurt; I was covered in butter! *““Soon, I was ‘Horse One’ at the box office. It didn’t matter who rode me — good guys, bad guys, Indians — the billing was always something like: Showdown at Sonora, starring Blaze, the Black Blur and a person riding on top of him! Cooper, ‘Duke’ Wayne, Stewart — they were just window dressing. People came to see the horse! “My favorite role? The Oscar winner, The Bad Steed. Great script! Faulkner! It wasn’t just the same old neighing and making that noise with my top lip. You know, p-p-ph-ph-phph-ph! In Steed I played a horse with a history — the broken home, the rheumatic fever, the bad crowd, the decision to give up the violin — all led up to a believable depiction of a horse who went sour. It sure was nice winning that Oscar. Especially over Olivier... he’s a heckuvan actor. But the Blur beat him out! “It was then the studio decided to put me in sophisticated comedies: Top Hat, White Tie and A Tail!, The Blurs from Boston!, The Cole Porter’s Horse Story! — they all bombed! Why they thought I'd be any good in comedies is beyond me. I don’t even have a sense of humor! ‘By then, it was too late to go back to westerns. Y’see, they’d changed. Adult westerns, they called them. Boring, 7 called them! ‘The town shirks its moral responsibility by turning its back on a sheriff bent on fulfilling an unconscious death wish!’ Where’s the horse part in that? “Television? Never! I’m an artiste! Can you imagine Olivier coming on TV and saying, “To be, or not to be; that is the question!’ and some guy busting in with, ‘And before we hear the answer, here’s a word from Bark!, the dog-food made from fish! It'd throw his timing right off! And that’s the same way I feel about my chasm jumps. “If the right part came up, I'd be back in a flash. But nobody writes for the older type of horse. You gotta be young. Mind you, I can’t say I approve of what they do in movies these days. Once, the cowboy only kissed the horse; then he only kissed the girl; and now, don’t ask! Y’know, they asked me to be in a nudie, once. Yup, Bob and Carol and Ted and Dobbin! Doctors nixed it! ‘‘But I made a good deal when my movies were sold to TV. ’'m doing all right. ‘*‘All I want is one more shot at the ‘statue’!”’ At that moment, the nurse came into the room and said it was time for Blaze’s nap. And as she led him away, he suddenly reared up on his hind legs, beating the air with his hoofs and whinnying like a wild stallion. Then he came down. “Tell them I still got a few of those left”’ he bragged. brimming with Yesterday.