Herman Husselmann

WE tracked down former racehorse trainer and leading racing journalist Herman Husselmann somewhere on a game farm between Rustenburg and Thabazimbi. He is sitting under the umbrella-like crown of an old Leadwood tree, seeking shade from the mid-morning sun.

Herman still calls Somerset West home, but a year ago he jumped at the opportunity to manage a friend’s exclusive game farm in the North West Province. This is his temporary settlement and his wife Diane commutes from their home in the “Boland’’ every few weeks to share his unusual sojourn to the intimacy of nature.

The farm is the property of a good friend and has brought Herman peace of mind. Born and raised on an isolated Northern Cape farm, he has returned in a way to the unspoilt beauty of his childhood. Working here takes him back to the open veld on which he herded sheep as a youngster and keeps him occupied after an active life in the “fast lane’’.

At 68, Herman is extremely happy in retirement and has much time to reflect on what he calls his “chequered life’’. He admits though to living this chequered life “to the fullest’’, the presumably simple philosophy which found its roots in the works of writer Ernest Hemingway.

Herman’s collection of memories is a treasure trove including many a humorous tale from his early racing days. He has stored bytes of high excitement, embodied in the names of horses and races, coupled with spurts of wisdom acquired in his time as the award-winning racing editor on Die Burger and Beeld.

Herman says that throughout his life he has “chased with vigour’’ every opportunity that presented itself. He adds, however, that all of them were linked to the horse, the magnificent thoroughbred which gave him hope, dreams and a long career spent largely in devotion of it.

He grew up in a little town called Kenhardt, district Upington, where his father was the most successful sheep farmer for many square country miles. His days were spent doing the kind of things expected from a farm boy – in reality a young helping hand to the traditional image of the hard-as-nails farmer, raised on home-baked bread and fresh milk.

Herman will jokingly throw lamb chops and rich gravy into this often romanticised mix, because the time of his youth was truly joyous and free of poverty. The Husselmans (only five landed here from Hamburg, Germany, near the turn of the 19th century) were an entrepreneurial lot and they found themselves in the right place at the right time.

“There was a major wool boom in the early 1950s and the sheep farmers became sheep barons,’’ he recalls. The district farmers made so much money they started buying racehorses of all shapes and sizes, mostly ones retired from the racetrack. There existed a “bush racing’ circuit, in those days governed by the Jockey Club. There were bookmakers and even a tote! We raced from Kimberley to Keetmanshoop to Upington and Verneukpan. Everyone participated.

“My father bought many horses and we even started training horses on behalf of others. I fell head over heels in love with them. I fed them, I rode them from one side of the farm to the other, I doctored them, I slept with them!

“The bug really bit me when we once acquired a horse called Sieraad. He became what I can describe as the Horse Chestnut of bush racing. He never won by less than 10 lengths. Sometimes we raced him in a 1000m bush sprint in the morning and in a 2000m race on the same afternoon. He never lost!’’

Traditional duties called, however, and after school Herman enrolled for a Bachelor of Arts, majoring in anthropology, at Stellenbosch University.

He was a good rugby player in the position of fly-half and played in what was a brilliant “Maties’’ first team which produced from its ranks 13 Springboks.

“Dawie de Villiers was my scrum-half, Jannie Engelbrecht was on the wing. We had Hannes Marais at prop, like Dawie a Springbok captain later in his career. The late Frederik Van Zyl Slabbert was the eighth man. We could speak for hours about South Africa’s political future.’’

Racing remained in his blood, however, and when a back injury prevented him from pursuing a sports career, he found himself a job at Die Burger, the mother of the Naspers Newspaper Group, based in Cape Town.

He recalls: “Racing was given only a few columns a week, limited space like they’d give to sports like bowls. I was only 22 years old and keen so I went to the managing editor and offered to take over the racing department from a retiring journalist, which was agreed upon.

“I loved my work and because of my intimate involvement with horses I was able to write stories that interested the general reader and reached much further than expected.

“Die Burger started carrying my best articles on the front page and over the next 10 years the racing coverage grew into a regular feature with news and views and tips. I was privileged to work alongside some of the great English racing editors like Rupert Langerman and I got to travel the world in my capacity as racing editor. It was a hugely exciting time indeed and a blossoming period for racing.

“When I was in my early 30s three of my friends, Tolly Novick, David Savage and Johan van der Westhuizen, suggested that I took out a trainers’ license. They would buy horses to give me a kick start. I didn’t think twice, resigned and set things in motion. The editor was furious and let me have it! He told me I was throwing a promising career in the water, but of course I wouldn’t listen.

“We set up shop on premises near Phillipi. There was a good long sand track with an uphill finish so I got my small string fit and we had a quick first winner, called Light Heeled, ridden by John De Vries. The stable grew from 12 to 24 and then to 45 horses. I had success with sore horses; I doctored their legs with the methods I used on the farm. New owners came along.

“I was given a top sprinter called Free Enterprise and later a good stayer, Outswinger. We lined up Free Enterprise for a betting coup at Milnerton. His form wasn’t good at that point and he was a long-shot. We approached a farrier named Frikkie Bezuidenhout, at the time a confidant of the young riding sensation, Muis Roberts. We slipped him a few pounds and he persuaded Muis to ride Free Enterprise.

“We collected all the cash we could find and we cleaned up! Free Enterprise won as he liked. We were so happy we gave presents to everyone we saw – friends, grooms, even members of the public!’’

Herman’s best horse was Festive Season, who got mighty close to winning the 1980 J&B Met. He tells: “My stable jockey was Errol Lang, a stipendiary steward today. She put up a terrific sand gallop a week before the race and I knew we had a big chance.

“Festive Season was the type that always did just enough to win. She hated being in front and Errol and I planned to keep her at the back of the field for as long as possible. The plan almost came to fruition, but when Errol started moving up at the 400m mark our rivals started dropping back quicker than we anticipated.

“Festive Season found herself in the lead with 150m to run and Errol had his hands full keeping her going. She battled on and was still in front with 50m to go when the great and powerful Politician loomed up on her flanks and caught us near the line. What a day it was!’’

His wife’s illness interrupted Herman’s training career at a time when he could have gone on to great things, but a more stable income was needed. Again, however, an opportunity arose from nowhere when Roelf Theunissen, racing editor of Beeld in Johannesburg, died unexpectedly and his position became available. Herman was offered the job and accepted, building between 1982 and 1989 a racing page he believes bettered all others of the same era and set new standards with a remarkably strong readership among racing enthusiasts of different languages.

He was named racing journalist of the year twice and through his focused and informed opinions had an impact on many high-level industry decisions of the time. To this day, he believes that an independent racing media is as good for racing as an independent newsroom is for politics.

Herman returned to Die Burger in 1990, first as racing editor and then as sports editor until 2005 when he left the newspaper, managed a racing magazine for a while and then called it a day to make more time for his hobby, snorkelling.

While Herman shares the popular concerns about racing and its positioning in an ever-changing modern market, he firmly believes the industry is inherently strong and will survive, and eventually grow beyond expectations.

He opines: “Racing is proud, authentic and powerful, the thoroughbred has evolved over many centuries. It is something that appeals to basic human nature and the trends will turn back. In my view it needs a few tweaks and things will be fine. The authorities need to devise attractions that will bring new enthusiasts. New blood guarantees survival and breeds more new blood.

“Look at what the 20-20 concept did for cricket. You can turn things around overnight. A change of track layout springs to mind. This may be far-fetched, but I think tracks should be more compact, the horses should go around twice so racegoers get to see more of them. People need to get up close to the walking or running horse. The moving of the parade ring at Turffontein is an example of a small change that makes a huge difference.

“Condensed race meetings will also work. You can stage, say, eight races within two hours, an integrated meeting with five races for work riders and five for the licensed jockeys so there are no interruptions. They alternate and race only 15 minutes apart. This can be marketed as a new action trend. It’s worth a try at the very least.

“I also think racing’s partnership with casinos is debatable. I do not see why you should be getting into bed with your competition. Perhaps I’m old fashioned, that’s just an opinion.

“I’m all for a united work force in service of racing and the amalgamation of talent has its benefits, but from my experience competition is healthy. In the old days Wally Segal of Gosforth Park and Sandy Christie of Turffontein were constantly at loggerheads, but their fierce competition was good for racing overall!’’

At this stage of his life, however, Herman is relaxing and far away from corporate strains and strategic decisions. He lives in an asbestos hut far away from the rush of traffic, among 15 species of buck, hyenas and jackals. “The only thing that interrupts my own snoring in this peaceful environment is the snoring of the blou wildebeest that like to set up camp right near my little abode at night,’’ he quips.

Photo: Herman and Di Husselmann in jovial mood at a Kenilworth awards dinner, 2008.