Riding Bess in Miller Park

Esther Miller on her horse with from left, her father, Henry, and brothers Harry and Johnny.

By Esther A. Miller

My father gave me a new horse in 1924 when I was seven years old.

This was no little horse. It was a full size Pinto.  I was used to our family’s Shetland ponies, Jack and Jill, and would ride Jack using just a saddle pad.  We named the new, brown-and-white spotted horse Bess.  

My family and I lived on Cambridge Boulevard on the triangle just south of Miller Park.  The park was donated by and is named after my grandfather, James T. Miller.  My grandfather had a big red barn on what is now Roxbury Road, but that had recently burned down. So we kept Bess in the smaller barn at my grandfather’s farm. (This is where First Community Village is now, and the barn was near the ice house which still stands).

My father was a horse enthusiast and shared that loved with me.  He was eager for me to ride Bess but I was scared for two reasons: one, her size---she was so big!  Secondly, she had a Western saddle which was too heavy for me to lift and properly secure.

One spring morning my father and I got Bess out of the barn and he lifted me up into the saddle and we walked toward Miller Park.  Vic Thompson was in the park exercising his polo pony. 

My father called out to him, “Hey Vic!  Take Esther and Bess down to the circle.”  (“The circle” is how we referred to the junction of Tremont and Stanford Roads, and Arlington Avenue.  The Upper Arlington Company built an office there in 1920, and at the time of this story it housed the village headquarters for police, etc.  It later became Miller Park Library, which is still in the same location today.)

Vic thundered by us and headed toward the library at a full canter.  To my dismay Bess took off after him like a shot and I held on for dear life.

When Vic reached the building he pulled on the reins and his horse slowed.  Bess followed suit and stopped when they stopped.

Out of breath and with my heart thumping I turned around and yelled back at my father across the park, “Why did you do that?!”

“Now you can ride a horse!”  he exclaimed, very proud of himself, and me.