I can’t really remember when I first met Jim Gladden. And, to be frank, I really can’t remember where it occurred, either.

I don’t recall the date, time, location.

I don’t have any memory of the reason of the occasion.

I ask myself “why” from time to time. I question myself and ask why I still have that lack of data bank. I can remember the lyrics to a song that I heard 60 years ago, and I can’t remember this? Have to admit that bothers me.

But don’t mistake.

Wherever it was…

Whenever it occurred…

It was a monumental day — or night? — in my life. As it turns out, it may be one of the most important nights — or was it day? — in all of my life.

You see, there are just a few people in your life who you are lucky enough to get to meet.  Lucky, to be sure. Fortunate, to be honest.

They are the ones who have the ability to change your mind; change your heart; and change your life.

They are the ones who are “God-sent.”

Jim Gladden was one of those rare people. Not just to me, mind you. To so, so, so many others.

But to me — for me — Jim was truly “God-sent.”

While I may not remember when or where, I do remember “The Why.”

Mike Schnell, Dave Steinbrecher and I were embarking on this idea (mission?) of creating an upscale, private club — dedicated in part to promotion and celebration of the Thoroughbred industry — in downtown Louisville.

Lexington and Keeneland have “The Thoroughbred Club of America.”

We wanted Louisville and Churchill Downs to have something of equal status, and standing.

Or, at the very least, we wished, hoped, prayed that we could possibly create something so grand.

At one of our first meetings and public invitations, I must have met Jim and Emily Gladden. I must have recognized this very dapperly-dressed, distinguished, gray-haired gentleman with a gracious smile; a welcoming hand shake; and a lovely wife.

At some point in the night and during the proceedings, I had to finally make my way to this engaging couple and make my introduction.

Little did I know then what a life-changing experience that would become.

A lot do I know now about one of the most kind, generous, intelligent, charming people I have ever known in my entire lifetime.

Early on, I found out that Jim — a horseman of the highest caliber and integrity — owned Thoroughbreds. And, he had a love for the sport like so many other people I have known and like no one else I have ever known.

Like with the other business enterprises that Jim had created in his life — like Genesis Plastics and Genesis Solutions, both in Southern, IN — Jim was fiercely committed to building a business plan and company that could and would compete in the real world with the highest degree of professionalism and success.

Like with his family and others who he got to know through various life journeys, Jim was equally devoted to building a racing stable — Genesis Racing — with a love and passion for each and every horse that he purchased, owned, “helped train,” and race. He picked Ian Wilkes to coach his horses. A quality man, who matches Jim’s class, as well. They were off, and well, running.

The more I saw, the more I realized. Everything Jim Gladden seemed to touch seemingly turned to gold-like success.

Yet, the more I was around Jim Gladden, I realized the secret to his success was no secret at all. He didn’t dip a toe into his projects, he devoted all to his projects. He didn’t play at new ideas, he developed and worked them. He didn’t just invest his dollars. He invested his time and mind. He invested Jim Gladden.

And, that’s exactly what he did for the Louisville Thoroughbred Society.

That’s exactly what he did to the Louisville Thoroughbred Society.

He was one of the fledgling company’s original investors.

He never missed a meeting.

He would show up to watch the construction.

He would talk to friends and partners and encourage all to become members, at a time when members were as hard to find as people like Jim Gladden are always hard to find today.

He was there when LTS survived COVID, and all of its’ challenges to a business still waiting to open its’ doors to a public skeptical on being in public, again.

He was there during our “tough days” of downtown Louisville.

He served on our first “search committee” in our hiring efforts.

He was there to help coach a “younger man” about the virtues of patience, without a lecture or a command. Somehow, he was able to convince others that his ideas was your idea, too, and he didn’t mind that his brainchild became someone else’s original thought.

Pride of authorship was the farthest thing from Jim Gladden’s mind.

Pride of success was foremost.

And, pride of “friendship-building” along the way, was his most amazing gift and miracle of life.

After LTS became a reality, Jim Gladden’s name was not mentioned as much as it should have been. Outside the amazing contributions of Mike Schnell and the financial commitment of Dave Steinbrecher, Jim Gladden was the glue that held the entire project together.

Jim Gladden has always been one of the main pillars. Always will be. Always. As big and strong as one of those huge wooden pillars that stand so tall in proud in the Hughes Building. Jim Gladden is one of those.

And, both Jim and Emily were always there — in person, too — just when you needed them the most.

Every time we had a special occasion, Jim and Emily would show up like always. Quietly. Like a good Baptist — ready to sit on the back row and help with the singing.

Every time, I would organize a “Handicapping Event” for either the Kentucky Derby or the Breeders’ Cup, Jim and Emily would show up like always. Like a good Samaritan — ready to help with the meager crowd numbers and help with the questions.

Every single time I had a horse running — or, at the least, trying to — Jim Gladden would text me and wish me luck. Just a note. But what a note. A man of his stature and daily time demands made time to wish me luck. Made me smile every time.

That was the kind of man Jim Gladden was. Always there.

Until this year’s Kentucky Derby handicapping event. I knew that he and Emily had RSVP’d and said they would be there again. But on the night of delight, I noticed that they were not n attendance. Mike Schnell asked me if I had heard from them. I had not.

The next day, on “Wins-day” of Derby week, I called for Jim. Quickly, he answered the phone. When I asked if he was OK, he told me that he had recently had an accident. After winning a race at Keeneland in early April, he and Emily were on their way to the car. Apparently, Jim tripped and fell. In doing so, he fractured his arm and received a severe concussion. In addition, he had also injured his back.

While Jim never complained. I knew he was not quite himself, either. He assured me he would be OK, in time.

For the only time in his life, Jim didn’t tell me the truth.

Just a week or so ago, Jim underwent surgery to help alleviate some pain in his back. While the surgery seemed to be a success, Jim never recovered. Complications ensued. Complications had complications.

While I still don’t remember the day or time when I first met Jim Gladden, I will always remember exactly where I was when Emily and I talked and she delivered me the news that Jim had passed. 

Emily, the prefect companion to Jim, was a model of courage and style.

I was a bloody, crying mess.

I was standing on a baseball field in Columbus, OH. A field of dreams for my grandsons — Jack and Ford. I was standing alone on a field staring at the heavens — where I knew Jim now calls home.

And, I cried.

Every single time I saw Jim and Emily Gladden, I introduced them appropriately for me. I would tell people — everybody — that even though I am now 70 years old that I hope to someday to grow up to be just like Jim Gladden.

Every single time, I meant it.

And, I still do.

With all my heart.

I hope to someday grow up to be like Jim Gladden, even if it’s a little bit.

If I can do that?

Then, maybe, I can make Jim truly glad, too.

I will try, Jim.

I promise I will try.

But I will miss you so.