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When someone dies young, it is an undeniable tragedy. It doesn’t matter the reason. It is tragic if it was expected—a slow train com-ing that no one could halt—and it is a tragedy if it was sudden and without warning. !ere is no happy ending when it comes early. When I got the word on May 31, 2012 that legendary horseman—and close family friend—Gary Zook had passed away from a heart attack at age 48, I felt the weight of this loss for both reasons. Gary had lived hard for those 48 years, keeping a breath-less pace that almost guaranteed him an early arrival at the "nish line. However, it was exactly this boundless energy and intensity that made his death almost incomprehensible. Few people ever radiated the enthusiasm and vibrancy that Gary did. “!e essence of Gary was talking a hundred miles a minute and energy, just constant energy. When he was teaching, he would half-pass himself across the ring to demonstrate what it should look like and make a rider position while he walked and then he’d run sideways and turn le# and march. He was just so energetic and passionate,” described former student and longtime friend, Jen Barry-Baltrus. I grew up with him training both my sister, Meredith, and me and he made regular trips to our farm in southern New Jersey to teach riding clinics. He spoke and moved with such ebullience, such vitality, he could be exhausting to observe but for how energized he made those around him feel. “When he taught, especially in clinics, he got everyone so excited. He could have taught the entire day and then said, ‘Okay, we’re all going to get o$ our horses and change and do a whole other clinic and they would have all done it,’” said my mother and his longtime friend, Denise Worrell. “He was just that good.” Anyone who knew Gary knew that this energy never took the day o$. He exuded life. His life began in 1964

in Evanston, Illinois. !ough Gary grew up in a northern suburb of Chicago, his golden blonde hair and blue eyes made him the picture of a Midwestern

farm boy. Early on, his father, Gary, Sr., a lawyer, taught Gary and his

younger brother, Greg, two important lessons. “!e "rst thing he preached to us was to get up every day, put your pants on, and go work. Do something. Don’t sit around,” said Greg. From the time the boys were old enough to hold a rake upright, they worked for their allowance. Greg remem-bers childhood a#ernoons spent with his brother raking leaves, clearing out gutters, and cleaning windows. !e other thing Gary Sr. advised his boys was to discover

their passion. “Dad always told us to "nd something we love,” Greg de-scribed. “!at mattered to him.” Heeding his father’s advice came easy for Gary when, a#er the family moved to Birmingham, Michigan, he took a group riding lesson at a local stable. “He was twelve years old,” said Greg,

“and right away he fell in love with riding. He was taken with it and just loved it.” Hearing Greg describe his brother’s enthusiasm, it’s easy to imagine a younger version of Gary, full of his natural energy and further buoyed by the thrill of discovery, bouncing home from the stable, bursting to tell his family all about the

horses.

Gary realized quickly that he could combine both lessons from his father—to "nd his passion and work hard—with the horses. Within two years, he found a new stable and moved up the ranks from beginner rider to riding camp counselor. By fourteen

he was teaching lessons. Greg recalled his rapid growth: ‘When Gary got into horses, he realized he could make money at it. Just a couple of years into his horse career, he was already getting paid.” His parents, Gary, Sr. and his mother, Joyce, were in full support of Gary’s newfound passion. “Mom would get up early to drive him to the barn,” Greg recounted. “She drove him about an hour and a half every single day.” A#er the family moved to Somerville, New Jersey around 1978, his parents helped to buy him his "rst horse. He began to ride with trainer Patty McElvey and soon a#er joined the crew at Briarwood Farm under the tu-telage of Jack Benson, where he excelled as a junior rider. Former Olympic show jumper Nona Garson recalls seeing Gary at horse shows in those early years. “I met Gary when he was still in high school,” she said. “I remember being very impressed with his way. Even as a young guy, he had this great way about himself.” It was in New Jersey that Gary really began to come into his own, both as a rider and in his personal life. As high school wound down, lifelong friend, Paisley Knudsen, who knew Gary from his riding days in Michigan, remembered him grappling with whether to continue on with school. “He and I talked a lot about college,” she said. “It was always his parents’ wish for him and he was a good student.” However, perhaps knowing he was already where he belonged, Gary made the decision to stick with the horses and committed himself fully to the equestrian life. Gary also made another important decision at that time to come out to his friends and family. “It wasn’t a big deal,” Greg said, and then added with a laugh, “Plus, I would get all my dates from my brother because, of course, all the girls wanted to date him.”

Gary Zook: Larger !an Life By Devon Taylor

www.theplaidhorse.comJune 2012 The Plaid Horse8

A�er high school, Gary set out to make his way in the horse world. He began to work with the United States Equestrian Team in 1983, though his role was hardly prestigious. “He told us he used to muck stalls for the USET,” recalled Meredith Taylor, my sister and his long-time student and business partner. It wasn’t long, however, before Gary developed a partnership with re-nowned equestrian Michael Henaghan that catapulted his career. “When I met him he was only nineteen years-old,” Henaghan recollected. “It was at a time when he was just barely a!liated with the USET and just getting started in the whole thing.” Few remember Gary as a rider, though it was in the saddle that Gary "rst found success. “He hadn’t really had the opportunity to do a lot of competing,” Henaghan explained. “We went and got him a horse from Carol #ompson and he was one of the "rst winners of all the adult equestrian classes.” Gary and Henaghan struck up a relationship and began to train together under the Huntover Farm banner out of White-house Station, New Jersey. With Henaghan, Gary established himself as a premiere show trainer. #ough barely of drinking age, he possessed a con"dence and poise that belied his youth. Gary possessed an ability to be both assertive and kind, o�en in the same breath, and early on he developed an ability to get the most the most out of any horse and rider. “He was a natural horseman and a natural trainer,” Henaghan recalled. “He was very good at what he did.” Both talented and a$able, Henaghan and Gary made an excellent team. “When [Gary and Mike] were at the same show,”

trainer Je$ Wirthman recalled, “you knew they were a strong force.” #e two were at the top of the sport in the 1980s, train-ing some of the biggest names among the junior riders. “We were together when Ray Texel won at pony "nals and then went on to win both the Medal and Maclay Finals,” Henaghan said. “We also trained Cheryl Wilson who won the Medal Finals. In 1989, the State of New Jersey gave us a wonderful award for outstanding achievement because we won both the Medal and Maclay "nals.” Not many years a�er having "rst sat on a

horse himself, Gary was at the in-gate of the country’s most presti-gious shows helping coach riders to major success. As the business grew and more riders joined Huntover, it was Gary who headed up the role of training the pony riders at the shows. “Back then Gary was the pony trainer,” Meredith explained. In addition to training Texel as a pony rider, Gary also brought success early on to a number of would-be professionals—and their ponies—including Darren Graziano, who was a frequent winner on his small pony, Yes I Can, helping launch both of their careers. It was not long before he had a slew of pony kids—and pony mothers—to play ringmaster to at the shows. “I remember Meredith’s "rst pony "nals in Quentin [in 1988],” Worrell recalled. “Gary had "ve ponies there, all of which came equipped with a pony mother. #ere were "ve frazzled mothers dragging "ve pony riders to the ring. And the ponies all got ribbons and the kids all rode better than they could and Gary didn’t kill any of us. #at was Gary—always, always able to bring out more in a horse or a rider than seemed possible.” Among the young talent under Gary’s guidance was

Samantha Darling, who began riding with Gary and Henaghan when she was nine years-old and her parents felt it was time for her to move to a higher level. Darling remembers riding with Gary fondly. “I have had many trainers over the years,” she said, “but Gary has always stood out as one of my favorites. I think what I loved most about riding with him was the incredible amount of energy and enthusiasm he always brought to his training.” It was easy to see why a rider like Darling would enjoy her experi-ence with Gary. He made riding fun—and funny. “Gary knew how to keep the kids entertained,” Meredith described. “He had a really bizarre sense of humor, but a good one. Somehow it always ended up going in some direction that you didn’t expect it to.” His boundless enthusiasm and tireless wit made him an easy guy to like and an easy trainer to follow. Not only did Gary’s students adore him, but he adored them. It was perhaps because of the years he spent working with young riders that Gary developed a true compassion for his stu-dents that extended beyond the ring. #e success was important to him, but just as important were the lives of the riders. “Gary made it clear that he really cared about the people, not just the winning,” Worrell remarked. “He knew the personalities behind the kids, the families—they were real people to him.” Darling agreed, adding, “What I found so special about Gary was that he treated all his kids the same. He instilled the same e$ort in the rider who had all the talent and won all the classes as the one who had no talent and didn’t win much.” When Texel’s father died while Ray was compet-ing with Gary and Henaghan as a young junior, Gary was there to care for his student. “Gary’s in%uence on my life is something I will always be grateful for,” Texel remarked. “His care-taking of me a�er the death of my father is a model of support and strength.” A�er six years of working and training with Henaghan, it came time for Gary to strike out on his own. He le� Huntover in 1989 and partnered with rider and trainer Ken Berkley to form River’s Edge in Flemington, New Jersey. “Somehow along the way

Gary met Ken and they fell in love,” Greg remem-bered. “#ey were great together.” Not only did they complement each other as partners, but they were striking as a pair, each with Hollywood good looks. However, they were young, only in their twen-ties, and they had just a couple of horses and riders at the outset. River’s Edge as a venture marked a big professional risk for them.

“In the beginning, their business was new and they needed us as much as we needed them,” Worrell described. My sister, Meredith, who had been with Gary since Huntover, was one of their "rst students and, though our family was unable to a$ord the heavy cost of training and showing, Ken and Gary took her on. Within a year of the move, Meredith became a "xture at River’s Edge. “In 1990, I started staying there in the summer as a working student,” Meredith ex-plained. “I needed more help and so I worked for them to pay for my lessons. In the winters I went to Florida with them.” #ough

Meredith Taylor winner of the

1995 Medal Finals with Gary,

Missy Clark and Ken

June 2012www.theplaidhorse.com The Plaid Horse 9

the business picked up quickly and more riders—and with them more money—came through the door, Ken and Gary did not put any less e!ort into Meredith or expect anything more in return. Just as before, Gary—and now with him, Ken—put the riders before the money. At the time—and still—our family looked at the gener-osity o!ered to Meredith as an incredible gi". However, I wonder now if Gary didn’t see a bit of himself in her. It was easy to forget in those years when Ken and Gary lived on a beautiful farm and enjoyed such success that Gary didn’t begin there. Like Meredith, he was not born into horse show royalty. He had found his way up the equestrian ranks due in no small part to professionals like Jack Benson who were willing to take a chance on a kid without much money, but with a great deal of passion. Just a few short years ago, when Benson passed away, Gary recalled, “#e trainers I used to ride with [before Jack] would always put me down because I didn’t have the best horse and I did my own braiding. But he never said ‘you have ugly braids and ugly clothes.’ Jack took me as is.” Perhaps it was because of this generosity that Gary was willing to pay it forward to students like Meredith. Trainer and friend Lynne Tarves remembered Gary o!ering the same good will to her and her daughter, Ellen, a talented young rider. “He never charged us. He used to trek down here [to Cape May County] all the time to teach,” Tarves said. “He used to say that Ken couldn’t believe he would do it with the cost of travel or everything, but he did it. I think he believed in Ellen and wanted to help us.” What a student lacked in funds Gary was willing to overlook if they made up for it in grit and determination. Gary made a name for himself teaching riding clinics all over the country and one of his frequent stops was at the Tarves’ farm, where he was favorite among the riders. One reason Gary was so e!ective as an instructor was his creative and innovative approach to teaching any horse-and-rider combination. “He wasn’t afraid to ask a lot,” Tarves described. “He might set things up that were a little un-orthodox, but the design was to get you riding. Maybe your horse was a little too green or only half-trained, but so what? #at’s what you had to work with and Gary was going to get something out of it.” Tarves recalled one trip Gary took to her farm to teach a clinic where the sprinkler was accidentally le" on overnight and the ring $ooded. Rather than cancel the clinic or move it to another area, Gary used it as a learning opportunity. “He said, ‘Okay, we’re all going to do water today,’” Tarves remembered. “And not only did everyone have to trot and canter through it but, sure enough, he put a jump right in the water.” Gary was committed to teaching riders to be versatile and well-rounded and this included making the best of unforeseen elements. People got their money’s worth at his clinics, too. Gary was famous for teaching every single stride of a course, in a sense riding each step of it with his students. A visit to youtube.com and the dozens of videos shot at his clinics reminded me how much Gary channeled his energy and loqua-ciousness into his clinics—and what strong results he got. His clinics weren’t entirely about teaching, though, Lynne admitted. “He was always shopping for horses,” she said. “When he came down here, every horse that came in, he was as-sessing.” Gary had a natural eye for a horse and an uncanny ability to %nd a diamond in the rough. On one trip down, Tarves recalled,

“#is skinny horse came into the ring and I looked over and Gary was just about hyperventilating. I said, ‘what’s wrong?’ and he said, ‘this horse is amazing.’ I said, ‘really?’ and Gary just said, ‘trust me.” Ken and Gary bought the horse and he went on to great suc-cess in the show ring as a hunter under the name Tell #e Truth. Gary also found hunter Star City on a trip down to the Tarves’ farm. Not only did Gary bring the gi" of %nding horses to the River’s Edge enterprise, but he was also a natural salesman. Whether he was selling horses or promoting one of his riders, Gary was masterfully persuasive. “He could sell anything,” Mere-dith described. “And he could convince you of anything. He could tell you that you were purple and have green hair and by the end of the day you would say, ‘I guess I’m purple and have green hair. You convinced me that this is true.’ He would say it in a way that was like being purple and having green hair was the best thing that could have happened to you and that you are so lucky to have that and that you should go show it o! because it’s just that fantastic. By the end, you wanted to be purple and have green hair.” It was exactly this ability to sell anything that made Gary such an e!ective teacher. “He was a born communicator,”

Garson observed. Gary had an ability to instill con%dence in his riders in a way that they truly believed they were even better than they were. “I remember taking a lesson [with Gary] a"er I had just gotten Color Guard, my equitation horse,” recalled former student, Hilary Sivitz. “Another rider was also in the lesson and she was already a really successful equitation rider. But he somehow made me feel like I was already at that higher level, too. He didn’t baby me or act like he had di!erent or lower expectations for me.” It wasn’t an act of deception for Gary, either.

He was able to size up exactly what a rider was capable of and bring him or her to that level. Worrell described, “I think he had an instinct. He was smart as a whip. Some people are just really good at %guring out what has to be done. He was a natural at being a kind of psychologist in lessons. He knew how to get the best out of people.” And get the best out of riders he and Ken did. #ey worked tirelessly to bring the horses and riders of River’s Edge to the upper echelon of the show circuit and it wasn’t long before Gary was back at the in-gate for the big victories. When Mer-edith won the Medal Finals in 1995 and %nished second in the Maclay and USET %nals—just six years a"er River’s Edge was established—Gary cemented himself as an icon in the horse show world. He proved that he could duplicate the success he had at Huntover and continue to stay on the top of his game. “He was the man,” Barry-Baltrus said. “He was on the cover of Practical Horse-man every other week, teaching all over the country, winning the Medal and Maclay %nals year a"er year.” As Meredith’s younger sister, I certainly was privy to the big moments of success, like her wins at the %nals. However, for me what punctuated these years of riding and showing wasn’t just the pomp and circumstance of the horse shows, but the humid, hot summer days at River’s Edge, when Gary and Ken would teach lesson a"er lesson. When the days got long and monotonous, Gary would sometimes break up the boredom with a comic bit he would begin spontaneously, such as giving everyone nicknames


and insisting we all refer to each other that way or creating a game as we cleaned stalls. He would get a devilish grin on his face and, whether you felt he was silly or ridiculous didn’t matter. He was irresistible. I was young, though, and only got a small taste of the joy of riding with Gary. Meredith remembers more. “Gary was always fun to be around. If you were having a bad day—or even when you weren’t having a bad day—he could make a joke and just lighten the mood for everyone,” she described. “One year he got a camcorder for Christmas and he went around with it pretending to be Barbara Walters and interviewing everyone. He would say, ‘Hi, I’m Barbara Wawa.’ It was really funny.” Gary’s quick wit and e!usive, charming personality lit up the room, o"en to the delight of his clients. “Because of so many aspects of Gary—his looks, his persona, just everything about him—he was really one of the most memorable people I’ve ever known,” said Tarves. “Being around him was such a great, unique experience.” #ere were nights at Rivers Edge in those years when, a"er the last of the horses had been ridden and the stalls were mucked and the aisle was swept, a motley crew of trainers and rid-ers and parents and grooms would gather on Ken and Gary’s patio for a party. I was fortunate to be a part of a couple of them. #e farm would look serene in the gloaming, the $elds mowed and the horses grazing in the pastures, and the air was full of the sounds of laughter and glasses clinking and the door of their house swinging open and closed as friends streamed in and out. #e parties went on long into the night, long a"er I’d been sent to bed, and I would fall asleep to the rhythm of $rst a low, quiet voice I knew to be Gary’s outside across the patio, followed by thunderous laughter as he delivered yet another joke, entertained yet another friend. In those years, Gary loomed larger than life.

A"er Meredith $nished up as a junior, she joined Ken and Gary in the business as a rider and trainer. For several years they all ran River’s Edge together and it looked like the success might continue forever. However, the relationship between Ken and Gary had begun to deteriorate, slowly and irreversibly. In 1998, they decided to go their separate ways. “#at was a sad loss

for Gary,” his brother recalled. Meredith joined Gary in creating yet another new partner-ship. She and Gary, along with Meredith’s future husband, Matt Amoroso, formed a show stable together. It was the end of the 1990’s and the venture marked yet another new beginning for Gary. “I went with Gary to be the show rider,” Meredith explained. “I was with Matt by that time and we all formed the business together.” Fit-tingly, they named the new stable “Millennium.” Initially, things picked up

at Millennium right where they’d le" o! with River’s Edge. Just as always, riders %ocked to ride with Gary and now with newly minted professional, Meredith. “I rode with Gary when he was working with Meredith,” Sivitz recalled. “It was great. I remem-ber the energetic lessons and how he always seemed so zoned in.

I loved riding with Meredith, too. #ey worked great together.” #e business picked up steam and Gary’s riders continued to $nd themselves in the winner’s circle, just as they had for the past two decades. However, a"er a couple of years, Gary began to distance himself from the shows and le" more and more of the responsi-bilities to Meredith and Matt. He dated a string of boyfriends who weren’t a&liated with the horses and who led him away from the single focus and dedication that had long characterized his career. Rumors began to circulate around the show world that Gary had gotten caught up in the party scene and was abusing drugs. By late 2001, Meredith and Matt made the di&cult decision to part ways with Gary and begin their own show stable, Meredith Taylor, Inc. “I wasn’t in touch much with [Gary] at this time,” Meredith recalled. It was also in 2001 that Gary lost his father, Gary Sr. #is marked the start of a di&cult time in his life. Gary moved away from New Jersey down to Virginia and began working with Je! Kohlhas out of Full Cry Farm, but the business didn’t last. His rela-tionship with his family became strained. “Gary and I were only in touch a little during this time,” Greg described. “It was o! and on. Unfortunately he started to disappear for years at a time.” For the $rst time in his life, it seemed that Gary had lost his way. Looking back, it’s di&cult to tell what led Gary of course—if it was the break-up of River’s Edge, the death of his father, or if all of his success had given him the false sense that he could take risks and always come out on top. In late 2004, Gary reappeared on the New Jersey horse show scene and back into my family’s life. By that time he had been dealt another di&cult blow by the news that he had contracted HIV. My mother remembers getting a call from him. “When he resurfaced he had been diag-nosed and was humbled and unsure of where he $t,” she said. “He began the long road back.” #ose few years a"er Millennium had been di&cult ones for Gary and his reputation and personal rela-tionships had su!ered as a result. He had a great deal of mending to do. “At some point a"er he came back, Gary called [Matt and me] to apologize,” Meredith recalled. As he always did, Gary relied on his ability to teach riding to pay the bills. Slowly he rebuilt. “First he did a little freelancing and he started to teach clinics again,” said Meredith. “#en he was able to start up and rent some stalls and get himself back going again.” #ough his business grew, those who knew Gary well saw a change in him from the man who had been a part of so much success with Huntover and River’s Edge. “#e spark was gone from him,” Meredith described. “He wasn’t happy,” my mother agreed. “You could hear the unhappiness in his voice.” Gary had made the decision to forego any romantic relationships due to his illness, which, for a man as passionate as Gary, was a hard loss. “A"er he found out he was sick, he knew he was never going to have another relationship,” Meredith said. “#at had to be tough.” Due in part to the medication he was on for his HIV, Gary also gained weight, which added to his melancholy and weakened his self esteem. Additionally, many of his former friendships had fallen apart. “A lot of people abandoned Gary in his down days,” said close friend, Bob Smith. “I wasn’t one of them,” he added. #e decade continued to deal Gary tough losses when, in 2007, he lost close friend Joseph Connolly, the stepfather of Barry-Beltrus, to cancer. A year later, his dear friend, Margaret Gerby, also passed away. #at same year his condominium caught on $re,


which, in addition to the downturn in the economy, crippled him !nancially. In 2009, he lost both Lydia Connolly, Barry-Baltrus’ mother and his good friend, as well as his beloved mother, Joyce, with whom Gary was exceptionally close. Barry-Beltrus remem-bers this di"cult time. “His core family, like the people he was closest to—his mom and dad, my mom and stepdad, and Mar-garet—they all died,” she explained. “Gary had a lot of reasons to be very dark and sad, honestly. He went through some extremely tough emotional times. He was very alone. #e people that were like his blocks, the ones he looked to for support, were gone.” Despite the tremendous losses, Gary continued to try to move forward and rebuild. “Gary always tried to stay upbeat and posi-tive,” Smith remembered. “#e cup was always half-full for him. He always said things were improving and getting better, even if it wasn’t always the case. #ose who knew him well know the very terrible, horrible times he went through, but he kept positive.” Just a decade a$er being surrounded by a myriad of people who loved and admired him, Gary was alone. He leaned hard on my mother during this time. She runs a bookkeeping business and was managing Gary’s business !nances, so they were in constant touch. “He called a lot,” Worrell recalled. “O$en when he called, he just wanted to talk. He would refer a lot to the old days because he knew I remembered. He knew that I really knew him.” Gary also struck up a close friendship with an employee of my mother’s, Maripat Loprete, who worked on his account. “We talked all the time,” Loprete described. “He told me everything. Anything that was going on with any of his business relation-ships or his friends, he would bounce o% of me. He was trying to straighten up his life and put it all back together.” Slowly, he did begin to put it back together. While many thought his days as a top trainer were done, Gary wasn’t ready to be counted out. He began to !nd his way back by returning to where he started: a love for horses. It is what brought him to the horse world as a young kid and, in those tough years, it is what sus-tained him. “Gary loved horses,” said Henaghan. “A lot of people that are successful in our business don’t and it’s about the bottom line and how much money you make. But Gary loved horses, he really did.” Barry-Beltrus agreed, noting, “#at man understood exactly what makes a horse’s whole body move in some &uid mo-tion. #ere was some energy between him and horses and that is what kept him going. He just loved it.” By pouring his time into getting back to the basics, he was able to recapture that love. Trainer and rider Kelly Wilson, with whom Gary worked for the past few years, saw the change in him. “He was excited. He had some clients and horses that he really believed in,” she de-scribed. Barry-Beltrus also observed that Gary was turning things around. “#e old Gary was coming back,” she said. “For a long time, he was going to work, but he didn’t have any passion about it. He was just doing it. But that was changing. He was getting excited about the horses again. #e spark was coming back.” He made an impression on my sister, who had seen him at highest highs and lowest lows. “I think he was coming back,” said Meredith. “Just watching him at the last few shows. He had some good customers and he was making good deals and he just seemed like himself

again.” Even his friends outside of the horses could tell that Gary was enthused about horses again. Said Loprete, “He would always call me from the shows—and I know nothing about horses—but he would tell me all about the wonderful things his students were doing and how well they were doing. He would try to explain it to me. I didn’t know anything about horses, but I could tell that was really good at it and that he absolutely loved it.” In May 2012, Gary’s students successfully competed at the Garden State Horse Show where he was once again among the top riders and trainers in horses. A couple of days later he visited the doctor—a frequent stop for him in the years since being diagnosed with HIV. He called Barry-Beltrus a$er to report to her about his check-up. “Gary was always calling me with questions about his medications and about his health,” she explained, adding with a laugh, “even though I’m a vet, he thought I knew about human meds, too.” Gary let her know that his health was getting better. “He told me, ‘the doctor said my white count is really, re-ally healthy and you would never even know I am sick. But he is putting me on all these heart medications because he said a heart attack is going to kill me before anything else.’ I said, ‘Gary, it’s wonderful you’re doing well and it’s easy to go to the gym and eat healthy. You know, you’ve been sick for like ten years and, in that time, the people that were around you got sick and died. You have been worried about dying for ten years, but you’re the one that is still here. You’re here for a reason.’” #at night a$er Barry-Beltrus

got o% the phone, she felt encouraged that “Gary was starting to be okay with who he was and what his life was and who he wanted to be.” #at would be the last time they ever spoke. Just a few days later, in the early morning hours of May 27, 2012, Gary su%ered a massive cardiac arrest while alone at home. He was not able to make a call to 9-1-1 and doctors believe he died almost immediately. #e news of Gary’s death sent ripples of shock through the horse community. “I

couldn’t believe that the news of Gary’s pass-ing was true,” Wirthman said. “Gary was one of those people who had no end, whose energy and ability to light up the room was endless.” Tarves felt the same disbelief. “It just blows my mind that he’s gone,” she said, choking back tears. “He was indelible to me.” Meredith was hit hard by the news. “He was like another parent. He did a lot for me and I spent a lot of time with him,” she said. “I’m going to miss him,” Meredith added, her voice breaking. On June 11, 2012 in a small chapel in Pittstown, New Jersey, deep in the horse country Gary loved, family and friends gathered together to say goodbye to him. Extra chairs were brought in to the tiny sanctuary where dozens upon dozens of those who loved Gary—loved him in the good times and in his struggles—sat to celebrate his life. At the door to the church stood an easel with a picture of Gary atop a hill, a big smile on his face, and behind him a ring !lled with jumps. Greg’s lovely wife, Jen, said to me, “Greg told me that was how he always wanted to remember Gary,” referring to the picture. Later Greg remarked, “I will miss having my brother. I will remember his smile and his humor.”

Gary and his brother Greg

Gary Zook...continued on page 14


July 29, 2012

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December 8, 2012

Located at:38 Harbor Rd * Morganville, NJ

Tel: (732) 591-9600

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NAL and WIHS

HUNTERS * JUMPERS * EQUITATION

UPCOMING SHOWS


Gary passed away in the early pre-dawn hours on Sunday of junior weekend at the Devon Horse Show and County Fair. Twenty-�ve years prior, Gary had led me in the lead-line class that very weekend. Devon had been the site of tremendous amounts of success for Gary. His tall �gure, with his trademark blond hair and bright smile, had stood at the in-gates of the Dixon Oval and the Gold Ring countless times as he clapped and whooped for one more of his riders, for one more of his kids. So many of those rid-

ers had gone on to stand at the in-gates as trainers for their own students. So much of his wisdom, of his guidance, of his ability to see and understand horses had found its way into those rings in generations of horsemen that echoed long a�er the lessons he had taught. Horse shows are �lled with memories. �ey are places where kids in jodhpurs and braids grow into long, lean equitation riders, and then into wily and brave grand prix competitors, and

then li� their own children onto ancient and kind Welsh ponies, and then stand on the rail and hold their breaths as those kids make impossibly tight turns and jump impossibly high fences. And then those people grow old and disappear and new riders on new horses arrive. �ese riders receive trophies on which are etched names of horses and riders long gone who have stood in those same places and felt that same joy. Horse shows keep mov-ing and our calendars keep turning over because they must, but at every show are the memories of the thousands of riders and trainers and horses and ponies who have turned over that footing and lingered at those rails before. And among those memories are a few who managed to do it just a little bit better. �ose people like Gary. �ese are the legends of the horse show world—this little world that is all at once inconsequential and so very important. We remember these legends and what they taught us.

Devon Taylor is a writer who grew up riding and showing horses. She lives in Memphis, TN where she is earning her MFA in creative writing and teaching composition at the University of Memphis.

Gary Zook...continued from page 12


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