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Sunday, May 14, 2000 By Pohla Smith, Post-Gazette Sports Writer
First time I saw Julie Krone, all I could think about was how much her voice sounded like Minnie Mouse and how cute she was. Not thoughts for a woman sportswriter who counted herself a feminist to be proud of.
My second encounter with her -- 13 years ago this week -- was a little more politically correct. She was standing in the women jockeys' quarters at Pimlico in Baltimore when she shook my hand and sent pain shooting up my arm to my shoulder. She also was wearing no-nonsense men's Jockeys-style briefs.
"They don't show through the white pants as much," she explained.
Gullible me. I believed that was all there was to those tiny drawers. I wrote about her choice of lingerie matter-of-factly, then tucked away that hint to use when I got my own harness colors to wear when I drove pacers in celebrity races. (They were hot pink and white, my own statement of sorts in the male-dominated harness world of red, black, yellow and royal blue.)
Over the years, as Krone battled all kinds of barriers and enemies and injuries and sexist dismissals, I began to see those Jockey shorts as a symbol of some kind. It wasn't until Derby week, when her historic election to the Racing Hall of Fame was announced at Churchill Downs, that she acknowledged in her usual left-handed sort of way that they were.
Most women trying to make it in the male-oriented world of sports struggle mightily to hold on to their female identities. Think of Florence Griffin Joyner's spectacular nails and even more spectacular track outfits. Think of all those distinctly womanly photos of the U.S. women's soccer team.
But Krone played it a bit differently, and it was a constant source of irritation between her and the press, which thought she was aloof, contrary and, well, the word rhymes with "witch".
She finally explained at Churchill, though, that she got where she did -- all-time leading female rider and first woman to ride a Triple Crown race winner -- by pretending while she was at work at the track that she was a boy, or, at least, sex-less.
A mention that she was the "first woman" to do this or that easily could send her into a rage. At Churchill, she explained, "you can't participate in it. It just impedes you." It makes sense to me. Riding horses at speeds of 40 miles per hour is tough enough for man or woman. So is the constant politicking for good mounts done by jockeys and their agents. Why put the additional burden on her back that she was going to prove a girl could do anything a boy could in racing? All she wanted to do at the time was prove herself.
But don't get any wrong ideas. Away from the track, she allowed herself to be a female, too. There were handsome young men she fell in love with, and one big strapping one she married in one of the biggest social affairs of a Saratoga season. The partnership didn't work out; in fact, it cost her plenty emotionally and financially. But there is little doubt she still hopes to find the right guy someday. It will take someone with tons of self-confidence for Julie Krone is not going to fade away.
That was obvious by the way she retired a little more than a year ago.
Krone had several potentially fatal or crippling spills that caused serious injury in the mid-to-late '90s. One, in which a horse stepped on her chest at Saratoga, would have killed her if she hadn't been wearing one of the safety vests that recently had come on the market. She came back bravely and strongly from that fall, but subsequent injuries seemed to rob her of much of her derring-do.
Business dropped off precipitously on the tough New York circuit, and her riding was just not the same. Still, the only question that could make her as angry as one about her gender was "how are your injuries coming along?"
Krone, however, is indomitable. She started thinking about retirement but spent a year riding herself back into shape and to the top before she quit. She rode well on the Jersey circuit, where she had first found fame, then finished her career on a winning note at the Fair Grounds in New Orleans last year.
Those twin battles against sexism and injury-caused lack of confidence took their toll, but that's another thing that Krone blocked out. It wasn't until Derby week when she had mentioned she was doing promotional work for the anti-depressant Zoloft that the racing world knew just how much.
Now, if you're lucky enough to have a satellite to pull in the new TVG racing network, you can see the real Krone analyzing races. She still sounds like Minnie Mouse and doesn't try to hide it. She dresses in suits and wears makeup and is not afraid to hide that she's a knockout, either.
Meanwhile, she's also using that funny little voice to do cartoon voiceovers in Hollywood.
Krone may look more like a woman these days, but, in the vernacular, she still has ... well, this "b" word rhymes with "walls."
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