Called to the Post, Sam the Bugler Relishes It

Sam Grossman, a self-described nice Jewish boy from Long Island, was hanging out in the music department at C. W. Post College one day when he stumbled into what Bob Dylan would call a simple twist of fate.Mr. Grossman, then 27, had been playing the trumpet since he was 6; on that day 12 years ago, he was finishing up his master’s degree in music education and pondering a life of giving lessons and hustling for wedding and bar mitzvah gigs.It just so happened that a few days earlier, the bugler at New York’s thoroughbred racetracks had hit the “pick six” for $131,000 and quit.The New York Racing Association was in a tizzy trying to replace him, and a guy from NYRA walked in looking for sometime to do the job, at least for a while.Thus was born Sam the Bugler, the 5-foot-8, 200-pound man – “I’m officially 5-feet-10 and 180,” he says – in the black, knee-high boots, white pants, red jacket, and black derby with a feather in it who plays the “Call to the Post” nine times a day, 250 times a year at Aqueduct, Belmont, and Saratoga.“It was a miracle, really,” Mr. Grossman says of his start. “I’d never been to a racetrack in my life, didn’t have the slightest interest in horses, and didn’t even know there really was a racetrack bugler. I just figured they used canned music.”Now, he wouldn’t give it up for the world.“I’m probably the busiest musician in America,” he cackles. “I have 250 gigs a year at the track and another 50 or 60 bar mitzvahs and weddings. Not many guys get to play for money 300 times a year.”He was born into a musical family; his mother, sister, and identical twin brother, Irv – who occasionally fills in for him at the track – all play instruments. Mr. Grossman’s first big band experience was with an 11-piece salsa band called Orchestra Immensade – a highly improbable choice for a nice Jewish boy from Long Island.“I never got the dancing part right,” he says with a laugh while noodling around on his bugle between races on a recent frigid day at the ever-windswept Aqueduct. “The audience would yell, ‘Hey, this guy can play, but he sure can’t dance.’ “Mr. Grossman struggled through the routine of drumming up jobs and giving music lessons to kids who would rather be playing video games until NYRA called him to the post.“Weddings and bar mitzvahs have been 16 years of rubber-chicken dinners and gin to wash it down,” he says. “Getting up in the morning and putting this ridiculous costume on is something I love.“Only a couple of the bigger tracks in the country have buglers, so there are only a few of us who do this for a career. It’s really weird and different.“Wind, snow, sunshine, rain, I don’t care. There hasn’t been a single day when I didn’t want to get up and come here. I love the racetrack. I don’t bet, though. It’s not one of my vices. I’m not a big fan of losing.”What’s not to love? It’s only 15 seconds of work, nine times a day (about once every half hour). Over the years, it has brought him a legion of loyal followers. “See that woman over there?” he says, pointing at a wildly waving elderly woman with red hair and a wide smile about 50 yards away. “That’s Marina. She used to own a gentlemen’s club in England. That’s a brothel where they serve dinner.”Many of the fans follow the sport year-round, from the bitter cold days at Aqueduct to the spring and fall at Belmont to the jewel of them all: the six week summer meet at Saratoga.“Going to Saratoga is like going to a different planet,” says Mr. Grossman, who is married and has two children. “Wherever you go up there, people are just having a great time. They’re not like fans at any other racetrack in the world. They are there to have fun from the moment they arrive to the moment they leave. It’s not just about gambling.”He’s had lots of memorable days at the track – meeting Jack Nicholson, playing for Woody Allen, palling around with George Steinbrenner, and playing for a group of Playboy centerfolds at the Belmont Stakes eight years ago.His fondest memory is of the last Belmont Stakes: NYRA brought in two more buglers, including Mr. Grossman’s twin brother.“The fans were going nuts,” he says with a laugh. “They were yelling, ‘There are two Sams. There are two Sams.’ “The best job is at Christmas, when he, track announcer Tom Durkin, and a couple dozen friends throw a party and then go caroling.“Here you have a Jewish bugler leading 30 baked people up and down the streets singing Christmas carols,” he says. “That’s my favorite gig of the year.”

Called to the Post, Sam the Bugler Relishes It

Called to the Post, Sam the Bugler Relishes It

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