Monthly Archives: March 2010

In Dick Francis' nine-year steeplechase career, he won about 350 races.

Dick Francis died February 14, 2010.

An author I discovered when I was in about seven grade, I toted his books with me for decades, beginning with, I remember well, Nerve.

My riding instructor had introduced me to him, knowing that I was a reader, and knowing that I was crazy about horses and jumping. Like he was.

Eventually I caught up with everything he’d already published, and I began waiting impatiently till his next year’s new offering hit the shelves.

In those early years of reading Francis, I read for the thrill of joining his under-estimated protagonists — who had reached into the depths of their souls by the last pages — as well as the sheer joy of galloping around the courses with him. (Clutching the reins! An explosion of muscles hurtling forward! The sounds of 1,200 pounds of horse digging for breath! And the quiet crunching of oats in a stall, and the smell of alfalfa.)

As an adult and writer, I grew to appreciate his writing. This man knew how to open a book. He knew leads, and he understood the wandering reader’s mind long before TV, the Internet, and science told us our attention spans longed for 3-seconds increments.

In the ’90s, I interviewed him for The Seattle Times, and had a hard time squelching my hero-worship to make way for journalistic objectivity. His wife, Mary, and his son, Felix (who became a co-writer after Mary died), were also there. We met at the Four Seasons in downtown Seattle on a Sunday afternoon, and it became a highlight of my writing/reading life.

Francis, I learned after he’d died, was born on Halloween in 1920. He died on Valentine’s Day. A sweet life.