By Taylor Logeman – 2014
It was a magical place.
I’d never seen anything like it. An impossibly enormous equestrian facility, with the rich smells of manure and fresh leather wafting throughout the freshly cut lawns. Dozens of indoor arenas covered a vastness that stretched for several acres. Riders were clad in expensive showing habits – smart top hats, gold-buttoned jackets, tailored breeches, and shined black leather boots. And their steeds, no doubt of the finest breeding and bloodlines, brushed to perfection, their riders having spritzed Showsheen to glisten their manes and tails, sported the best quality dressage equipment. Vendors from near and far had campers set up selling merchandise from horse health products, to brand new tack, to clothing of all styles for riders.
Eliza and I hadn’t even planned to make the visit to the Bob Martin Agriculture Center. The first time we’d heard about it had been a mere half hour earlier, at the end of our “officially unofficial” tour of little Jamesville by the mayor himself. Eliza and I had asked the mayor what was worth checking out in Williamston, a neighboring town of Jamesville, and without missing a beat, he mentioned the active equestrian industry. In fact, he added, there was a dressage competition going on right then, and that we should definitely head over to watch it.
It didn’t take long to find. We first passed the town’s community college, which also boasted a quality equestrian program and riding facilities. An employee gave us simple directions that even we couldn’t butcher, as it was located just down the road. It certainly wasn’t difficult to spot: an enormous sign assured all visitors that they had indeed come to the right place. A long, fenced driveway flanked with freshly mowed stretches of lawn beckoned them down the path. The largest arena greeted newcomers at the entrance, and many others quickly came into view once the road veered right. Then the animals came into focus – greys, chestnuts, bays, and roans – then their riders. Considerable parking space, yet a minimum number of vacancies, implied that this was clearly a well-attended event.
Since I was a little girl, when I first began riding, scenes such as this one were my dream. I’d ridden competitively until high school, and continued forward in college. Though my preference was (and still is) the adrenaline-based style of cross-country competition, any experienced rider, no matter what their preference, holds high regard and appreciation for the discipline of dressage. Originally a French form of riding, like ballet, it involves a great deal of proper training and gracefulness, during which the horse beautifully yields to the rider’s every aid. Even several of the terms of movement are French: piaffe, renvers, pirouette. In fact, it is a practiced often referred to as “Horse Ballet.”
Needless to say, the entire experience was breathtaking. To start, it was a beautiful day, the weather without flaw. The horses were so incredibly well trained, acquiescent to seemingly every request of their rider. An air of professionalism and competitiveness settled firmly in the atmosphere, evoking excitement in even the greenest of spectators. If this was your discipline of choice, this was the place to be.
The further we walked, and the longer we stayed, the more that truth was confirmed. For instance, I spoke briefly with a woman named Lisa, who was volunteering at the snack bar in the main dressage arena, and like everyone else we’d encountered, spoke with a thick Southern drawl. And from our brief conversation I was given a glimpse into the value of this industry in this tiny North Carolina town…
This facility is much more sought out than I’d assumed. Lisa shared that the Bob Martin Center hosts competitions of all sorts throughout the year – not simply dressage. Western style (for the less knowledgeable, picture cowboys herding cattle), English style, barrel racing, dressage, show jumping – anything one could imagine that was horse-related, they had it.
Furthermore, the center attracted a major pull with out-of-towners – even out-of-staters. Riders seeking higher competition from as far as California, even Canada, traveled to this little town for this big horsey hot spot. I pressed further, asking Lisa if this meant that the town’s economic activity heightened considerably, to which she answered emphatically and affirmatively. In other words, this center alone, which surely was a tremendous investment on the town’s part, was more than paying for itself. Because of its presence and impact, the town enjoyed a great deal more liveliness – not to mention money – from foreign visitors. What was previously a glimpse of life along the great Highway 64 was now a point of great interest for a very specific but passionate niche.