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William A. Benitz | Page last modified: |
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William A. Benitz | Page last modified: |
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One morning a group of locals arrived at “La California” on a chata. They asked politely if they could collect
fallen branches and trees for firewood. Willie gave them the OK and directed them to a stand of paraiso trees
near the piggery some distance east of the casco. When leaving later that day, they stopped to thank Willie.
However, after exchanging pleasantries, he insisted they unload the chata – at the very bottom, beneath all the firewood,
was a dead pig.
(Told to George Hall by Ceschini, who’s father bought half of field Nº
8 in the 1920s.)
Each morning, when assigning the day’s tasks to the peones, Willie would ask the horse tamer how the taming was going.
The tamer would describe the status of each horse. However, there was one the tamer continually postponed mounting.
Eventually Willie lost his patience and insisted the tamer ride it that day. The following morning, the tamer still had
not mounted the wild horse. Willie then had him saddle it up. Calling up all the peones to watch, Willie
mounted it himself and rode it to a standstill. Disgraced, the tamer quit.
(Told to George Hall by Ceschini, who’s father bought half of field Nº
8 in the 1920s.)
One spring day (the sheep shearing season), a crew of entreriano sheep-shearers boasted that as entrerianos they were
great riders, far better than the peones at “La California” who were santafesinos and therefore inept riders.
A challenge ensued of who would be the better rider of a particularly tough untamed horse. Hearing of this, Willie bet the
shearers the expense of an asado for everyone – he then rode the horse himself and won.
(Told to George Hall by Ceschini, who’s father bought half of field Nº
8 in the 1920s.)
Willie would hang from the high cross-beam of a corral gate while a band of untamed young horses were rushed through the open gate beneath him.
He would then drop onto any one of the horses, picked totally at random, riding it out into the open field – bareback, without saddle nor bridle.
(Told by Willie’s son Malcolm.)
I recall watching Gappy, my grandfather Willie, come in from a ride at the Cali. It was a cool clouded morning in the early 1950’s. I was standing outside the Cali offices with my brother Tony and our father, Malcolm. Gappy rode in on a chestnut. Dismounting, he tied it up at one of the two circular hitching rails half-way to the garage.
The image of him striding towards us has remained fixed in my memory ever since. Impeccably dressed, he wore a dark brown felt fedora at a very slight tilt, tan herring-bone sport coat, a white shirt, light tan britches, and waxed & polished brown boots that shone. A red & yellow silk or satin bandana filled his open shirt collar. He held an Englsih style riding crop.
The contrast in style between Gappy and my father could not have been sharper. Other than that they both bred and rode the best polo ponies available in their day, both rode English riding saddles (Gappy’s was shiny, my father’s was covered with a wooly sheep-skin for comfort and grip), and both favored fedoras (Gappy’s impeccable, my father’s beat up and dusty). Instead of britches, my father wore grey or white bombachas (aka: bombags by my mother), instead of a sport coat he wore a brown suede leather campera, and his boots were forever dusty and muddy – except at polo on Sundays. Instead of a riding crop, my father used a rebenque, its handle made of a very stiff strip of rhino skin covered in rawhide. The cover’s design changed every so often – horses liked to chew on it, requiring it be repaired. The rhino skin was a gift from Uncle Alfred to Gappy – who was the first to make a rebenque of it, my father shortened the handle to the length it is today. It hangs in my office.
© Peter Benitz (Benitz Family)