They’re at the Gate : Race Organizer and His Family Smitten With Their Desert Steeds

“K issy, kissy?”

Jim James puckers up to the fence. “Come on, darlin’, come on. One kiss for daddy.”

He closes his eyes, leans forward ... Ssszzzwwaaakkk! Tina plants a big wet one on him. Full frontal.

Tina the, uh, camel.

Hey, don’t knock it. You ever been kissed by three lips instead of two? And big ones at that.

Tina wants another one. Her lips are out, searching like that dentist’s plant-monster in “The Little Shop of Horrors,” but James turns the other cheek and settles for a nuzzle.

“Yeah, that’s my girl. Now, don’t you go kissing all the other boys, ya hear? ‘Cuz I’ll be back tomorrow and I’ll find out about it, Tina.”

James hugs that long, curved neck as if Tina were Ingrid Bergman in her last scene in “Casablanca.”

Jim James is a camel convert. Oh sure, he has seen all those nasty images in French Foreign Legion sagas and comic strips of bad-tempered “ships of the desert” that could kick and, with a well-aimed spit, blind you. (Actually camels don’t spit.) All that changed the day he met Tina.

But Tina’s real master is Joe Hedrick, the pink-cheeked, blue-eyed fellow over there at the caravan near the arena, buttoning himself into his show shirt--the scarlet silk one with the slinky white tassels across the shoulders and down the arms.

We’ve caught up with Hedrick and the camel aficionados in Indio, where camel racing was one of the highlights at last month’s big date festival.

On this day, there’s going to be a grudge match. A camel race between the champions of Virginia City, Nev., and Hedrick’s team of pro riders--mostly his own kids and staff actually. Virginia City is about the only place in the country to take camels seriously. That’s probably because Nevada’s the only place that used them--as silver-mine pack animals.

Camels had been brought to Virginia when it was a colony. Then some thought of using them as transcontinental pack animals from Texas seaports to California, till the Civil War came, and with it the railroad. Now, every year in Virginia City, they race the old animals down Main Street just for the heck of it.

Things are beginning to happen. There’s a crowd gathering in the bleachers. There’s a girl throwing scarlet saddle cloths over three of the camels. There’s a guy counting out big clanky silver coins from a leather pull-string purse. His head jerks up as he sees the man in the albino iguana boots and scarlet silk shirt standing there, right before him.

“You Gary Jackson?”

“Yup . . . “

“Gary Jackson from Virginia City?”

“Guess so.”

“Gerreat! We still haven’t gotten a rider to race you, but I think we’ll give it to Aryn. He’s my boy. Nearly 16. ‘Course there’s a few things in the show before you. You got the prize money? Give me some details so I can announce. . . . “

Joe Hedrick is on. Switched on. Doing what he likes doing best. Organizing his show, getting ready to go out there and keep that crowd sizzling, or laughing, one or the other--they’re both important. Hedrick’s the guy who goes about the country filling fairs with animals. Elephant rides, camel rides, buffalo rides, petting zoos.

But camels are the main thing. For Jackson, Hedrick and a bunch of other camel groupies (mainly from the western desert states) who’ve just plain fallen in love with the sloe-eyed monsters, it’s simply a treat to be around them.

Hedrick, 43, was a schoolteacher until about 15 years ago. Then he decided he was happiest in the dusty arena, doing what his daddy did too: playing the clown in front of country audiences. Or town audiences looking for a bit of country. And it’s not just Joe. He has his whole family in on this one: his widowed mom, his wife and both his kids.

It’s 1:30 p.m. Hedrick paces around outside the arena: “Mom, where’s the flag for Hallie? We’re on in a moment.” He fingers a bulky radio mike.

“And where’s Hallie?”

“Mom” (Hedrick’s mother, Elizabeth) comes running in little steps out from a tent with a large American flag on a pole.

Behind her, a little Arabian princess steps out of a caravan. It’s Hedrick’s 9-year-old daughter, Hallie--all black veils and white arms and legs.

“Hallie, hey there you are. Roll it up good now. Stand by, Honey.”

Hedrick fiddles a switch under the mike. Suddenly his voice is booming all over the show grounds, even before he’s in the arena.

“Well, hi, everybody! Welcome! And have we got an afternoon lined up for you!”

He walks and talks his way into the arena. Past a bunch of tethered camels, past the gated ostriches.

Hallie takes the flag from “Mom” and walks as far as the corralled ostriches. One cranes down to see if she has anything chewy in her hair.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, I invite you to stand on your feet as we play our national anthem to the greatest flag of them all--Old Glory, to be unfurled by Miss Hallie Hedrick!”

The mass of folks in the bleachers rises. Most put their hands on their hearts. The music plays from a tape recorder. The little princess unfurls the colors. Hallie Hedrick at age 9 is an accomplished showgirl. She rolls it out in perfect timing to the music, then stands rock-still, alone in the dust.

Out behind, in her little tent, “Mom” Hedrick is suiting up the ostrich jockeys: a Bugs Bunny Outfit, Sylvester the Cat, and Mom’s newest creation especially for California, the California Raisin suit.

Joe’s already announcing them.

Gary Jackson is looking over his camel, Clyde. Clyde’s probably a girl. There are nine female camels. Five of them are pregnant. Or make that four; one just had her baby the night before after her 13 1/2 months’ gestation.

“We’ve come down from Virginia City because the camels are here,” Jackson says, “and we’d like to build up a bit of rivalry between California and Nevada. We’re really hot up there. We did our own sort of America’s Cup last year. Went over and took on the Aussies. Used their camels, their saddles. They ride behind the hump. They beat the pants off us. But then we had them come over to Virginia City and took them on in an elimination race down C Street. I won that. Brought the Cup back to America. I’m proud of that.”

Jackson has brought not silver dollars but silver tokens from Virginia City casinos--55 of them.

“But it’s really just the fun. Camels are great because they’re unique, and they’re really affectionate. Don’t believe what you read.”

Rides Arabian Horses

Hedrick’s wife, Sondra, is coming off the field. She’s been displaying her Arabian horse’s fancy footwork in the ring. It’s something she does for Joe. She’s not a natural show person, but she loves animals. And though she handles horses expertly, she too prefers camels.

“Camels have had a bad press,” Sondra says. “Give them love and affection and they’ll give you heaps back. They don’t spit. That’s llamas. Camels just sometimes get so mad they are literally sick. They throw up. But generally they are just much more lovable than horses.”

Joe’s out there now, into his long rope lasso work. He’s managed a “Cowboy’s Wedding Ring,” putting the whole length into the lasso and keeping it off the ground.

Outside the arena, Elizabeth is yelling at Rick Campbell, who’s going out to the bareback ostrich race. “Remember to lean in around that bend! You’ll fly off otherwise.”

While the ostrich races are winding up, Gary Jackson is getting into his riding costume, and Hedrick’s son Aryn is beside his grandmother suiting into another of the Arab costumes. He doesn’t worry her. She says privately he’s the best camel rider she’s seen. He’s a natural. He can take on anyone.

The third rider in the race is a bright-faced woman called Brandi Lee. She’s been riding 18 years, ever since she flew as a flight attendant for the Flying Tigers, ferrying troops to and from Vietnam. Camels were just crazy enough to be the ideal break from that.

“Get in there!” “Mom” Hedrick yells suddenly. “It’s the race!”

There is nothing like a camel race.

“Watch the gate! Keep your head below the gate or he’ll knock it off!” some guy yells. The trumpets are sounding. The camels’ necks are twisting like grotesque snakes.

Crash!

“And they’re away!”

Bang. Jerk. Duck duck duck! Galoompf galoompf . . . it’s true they run opposite to horses. It’s like riding a pair of scissors; both left legs then both right legs. There are things you have to decide: whether to ride in front of the hump or behind. Those sitting in front of the hump look like Lawrences of Arabia, erect and dashing. The ones sitting behind look like some afterthought the camel can’t shake. A bag of washing that’s coming adrift.

Too Young to Gamble

Young Aryn wins the big race. Jackson hands over the purse at the ceremonies. To someone too young to gamble. It’s not the Olympics for sure. But these are early days yet. There are only about 250 camel riders in the entire United States.

But for Joe Hedrick, it’s just the fun. He doesn’t allow whipping of his animals, even to win 55 silver gambling tokens.

“You know it’s right we should get camels back here in America,” Hedrick says, “because this is where they came from. You know, a few million years back, they were only 16 inches big then. Some went south, became llamas and vicunas, others went north across the Bering Strait and grew to the size they are now. So these aren’t strangers, they’re native animals. They’re ours!”

The sky’s deepening to mauve over the amphitheater. Jackson and Lee are still talking to Clyde and Grace and Andy and young Tina, the camels. And each other. Aussie camels versus Saudi camels. Yemeni camels versus Sudanese. They’re trying to figure ways to get to the next international camel event, the great trans-Australia race coming in April. Now that’s a real race: $100,000 prize money.

Serious About Racing

“We’re serious, man!” Lee says, a touch of desperation in her voice. “We want to make camel racing big. It could be a worldwide sport. Here! See, we’re not alone.”

She thrusts out a ballpoint pen. It has been embossed in gold letters on three sides.

“International order of Camel Jockeys: U.S.A., Australia, Saudi Arabia, United Kingdom, Japan, France.”

“But . . . it’s just getting the camels. Getting the commercial sponsorship. Getting the occasions. Getting the recognition!”

“Tina. Tina baby!”

“Uh oh,” Hedrick says, “It’s James again. See? This is what I’m talking about. This is love. Camels do this to people.”

“Come on, baby. Come to daddy before he goes home.”

The young camel comes loping over toward Jim James’ tall figure.

“That’s what we’re all about,” Hedrick says. “It’s what all those city folk need lots of. Every single one of them.”

James is not listening.

“Come on, baby. Come on, Tina. Kissy, kissy?”