In the 50s and 60s, the San Fernando Valley was mostly farms, ranches and bare acreage. Low desert, the untamed land was covered with sagebrush, tumbleweeds and a bit of cactus. Winter rains encouraged the growth of large fields full of wild barley and golden poppies. Summer brought the hot, dry Santa Ana devil winds. The tall grass, its seed heads chattering in the strong gusts, turned golden brown. The valley was the home of many western movies, movie stars and Mr. Ed–who lived right across the dirt street from me.
We lived smack in the middle of the valley, home to circuses, carnivals, horse trainers, and movie stables: Hudkin Brothers, George Spahn, Fat Jones, Ralph McCutcheon and Glenn Randall. All of these were my stomping grounds at various times, sometimes just hanging out, sometimes helping with the horses. My dad, John Kemsley, was known as the ponyman. He kept a herd of twenty ponies for his carnival and for movie work.
Dad introduced me to the world of horses as soon as I could sit up. At six months of age, he put me in the saddle for the first time. That was the beginning of a lifelong love affair. The cowboys said I learned to walk when I fell off. That may be true. My earliest memory is of walking home from a nearby ravine after being dumped, once again, by my black and white pinto pony, Prince. I hated that walk and vowed to never get tossed again. It was a vow I could never quite keep, but it sure did improve my seat. Prince and I worked things out and began returning home together. I still feel more at home astride a horse than I do on the ground.
One end of our circular driveway was directly across from one end of the circular driveway of Les Hilton–among the elite of movie horse trainers. Mr. Ed resided in the last stall on the left of his long, white shed row barn. At various times, several of the best known equine stars lived there. Black Diamond and Frances, the talking mule, were two that preceded Ed. The success of Frances was the inspiration for the television series where Ed was the star. While Ed lived there, the stall immediately to his right was the home of Pumpkin, his stunt double. Both of these charismatic palominos became my good friends.
Ed dominated the barn, even though he was two inches smaller than Pumpkin. The sheer force of Ed’s personality dictated the daily routine. People weren’t allowed to say “hello” to Pumpkin first, or Ed would sulk, grabbing the short rope affixed to the top half of his Dutch stall door and slamming it shut. It didn’t do any good to apologize. Ed would be out of his stall and into his corral by then, hiding behind the barn and refusing to return. Ed demanded to be first in all things: the meals of alfalfa hay at sunrise and sunset, cleaning his stall, the mid-morning grooming, the noon ration of oats and barley, and even the afternoon training sessions. If Les brought new toys, Ed insisted on playing with them first. When fans visited, which was often since his trailer sat out front, Les greeted them cordially but was careful to steer them toward Ed and discreetly shoo Pumpkin away. No amount of coaxing would induce Ed to perform for fans if they stopped to admire Pumpkin.
