Jim Dorr

When I was eight, I devoured every adventure book about animals I could find. Authors Walter Farley, Jim Kjelgaard and, especially, Marguerite Henry were favorites.

In August, 1953, my parents and I came to Chicago from our home in Dubuque, Iowa, for a weekend of Cubs games. I asked if we could drive by Marguerite Henry’s home in west suburban Wayne, thinking I might see Misty of Chincoteague or Brighty of the Grand Canyon. Driving through Wayne, we asked a lady on a horse for directions to Marguerite Henry’s house. To our surprise, she replied: “I am Marguerite Henry,” and invited us to her home.

That day was magic. She took me for a ride on Friday, her Morgan horse. We talked about her books; she was very interested in learning what I liked best about them. She wanted me to know that they were based on true characters and events. We shared ice cream and cake left over from a birthday party for Misty that 100 children had attended. I shook hooves with Misty while Brighty looked on. And Ms. Henry autographed Born to Trot.

I still have that book, plus Misty, Sea Star, Justin Morgan, King of the Wind, and Brighty. I also have our subsequent correspondence. She liked the hotpads I sent her for Christmas and the picture of Brighty seeming to exit the front door of her house. She sent a letter received in December, 1953, from the man who managed the tourist camp called Wyleys and who knew the real Brighty before he died 31 years before. He thought Brighty had “plenty of pep” and confirmed many of the events, including the involvement of the gold watch.

That should be intriguing enough to make you want to read the book, even if you are an adult.