The Jamaican island paradise promised little to young Hortley Cassanova. Her charms were reserved for the more pale-faced and well-heeled visitors, transient imbibers of the fruits and delicacies produced by hospitable, native hands. The posh resorts nearby were not for his enjoyment, but for those from far-away lands.
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To friends and relatives, he was called ‘Tucka’ and he spent his days rollicking the soccer fields, honing skills that gave him promise in the sport even at such a young age. Guarded by youthful innocence and naivete, Tucka barely noticed the Third World poverty that surrounded him. His hard-working father drove a taxi to put food on the table, clothes on his back and a roof over his head. Those needs being met and the opportunity to kick the soccer ball around whenever he pleased made life a veritable Shangri-La in the eyes of this 12-year-old boy.
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Tucka’s mother had left the family when he was just 2 years old, so he had little to no recollection of her. Still, there was plenty of family to go around starting with his doting father. Aunts, uncles, cousins and grandparents filled whatever maternal void remained and he received the love nature mandates a small boy from his family, so much so that today he admits to being a “spoiled child.”
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On one late evening car ride home from the wake of a family member who had recently passed, the world still seemed to move at its normal pace. Interrupting the family conversation while in transit, he earned the rebuke of his grandmother: “Shut up; you’re a child, go to sleep! You can’t talk when the big people are talking.”
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So, the young Tucka put his head down and went back to sleep, only to be jostled from that slumber by a loud explosion and sudden jolt. The car’s rear tire blew and sent the vehicle airborne into an electrical pole. When he gained consciousness at the hospital, he not only heard, but witnessed with his own eyes the tragic news.
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From Jamaican tragedy to equine life
Story by Carlton Reese Photos by Ralph Demilio
“I was in a wheelchair, and I heard the nurse say, ‘there’s the dead bodies,’” Tucka remembers. “I wheeled outside and looked, saw a truck open in the back and the four of them — my grandma, grandpa, my aunt and my dad. I saw them with my bare eyes — I live with that.”
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Those chaste eyes that gazed in fright upon the dead bodies of his family members would continue to see the macabre image, recurring seemingly in real time even 18 years after the fact.
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Shortly, the pain of the moment would give way to the realization that life would take a different path whence he had been. Another aunt would raise Tucka and his sister, and she would continue the father’s dedication to the athletic side within. He became a sprinter just as many Jamaican boys who idolize their countryman Usain Bolt, the fastest human to ever live.
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Tucka dreamed of one day racing in the Olympics, and running the 100 meters in a brisk 10.1 seconds put him on pace for that to someday become a reality. In high school, his sprinting prowess earned him a trip to the famed Penn Relays in Philadelphia, where he enjoyed his first taste of America. He was immediately seduced by the way of life and the opportunities that existed.
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“I thought it would be a better life in America than in Jamaica,” Tucka said of the indelible impression made upon him. “Down there (in Jamaica) you work just to go to work; you’re not working to elevate yourself.”
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When his aunt, now stepmother, married a horse trainer from Miami, the time had come to move to America. He spent many days at the track with his stepfather and discovered he had quite the gift for spotting winning horses and parlayed that into a few successful bets. He was given responsibilities in leading horses at the track and a new passion welled within.
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“That’s when I realized, I didn’t choose this — this chose me.” He was 19.
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In Miami, he discovered the art of leading horses, that it was more finesse than strength. That would be the first of many lessons that would serve him on his journey through the horse racing industry.
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His new stepfather, looking for horses with winning potential, brought Tucka with him to the Ocala Breeders’ Sales one spring and that led to the next turn in his life. There, he met Ali Rice and informed her he was looking for a job in the industry.
“Do you know about horses?” Rice asked.
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“I’m a little bit green, but I can manage,” Tucka answered.
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“Okay, I can work with that — if you’re willing to learn, I’ll teach you.”
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Tucka’s new life took root at RiceHorse Stables and the learning process would continue in many of the least-glamorous positions. Then, he was for the most part a stall guy — mucking, preparing hay bags and such. Today, he is a barn manager with the goal of becoming a trainer.
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“That’s the path that chose me; I can’t run from it,” said Tucka, now 30. “I classify myself as one of the best groomers in the game and I can pick a horse out of a race — I know when a horse is ready or not ready.
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“My uncle is a trainer in Jamaica — it was in my blood before I even knew it. I just had to find it.”
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Training horses is the energy Tucka sees in himself — he calls it ‘Kundalini’ and believes it is a force that lies within everyone just waiting to be awakened. His Kundalini seems to be gaining momentum with each passing day. He is close to attaining his assistant trainer license which will allow him to work directly under his stepfather once again where he will take over the bulk of that operation.
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“We talk every day on the phone, and he’s been teaching me,” Tucka explains with an unbridled excitement in his voice. “He’s blind now, and we are going to combine to train horses — he has horses here and as soon as I’m finished here, I’m headed south.”
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With optimism in his heart and a clearly-chosen path, Hortley St. Clare “Tucka” Cassanova currently lives what he considers “the good life.” Now married and with two daughters, the present and future monopolize his attention, but such may not have ever been the case were it not for that tragic night in Jamaica. Out of such tragedy, a new life arose and it is one that Tucka grabs by the reins with white-knuckled intensity combined with his breezy, Jamaican demeanor.
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“You’ll hear about me; there’s a lot more to come.”