Every once in a while (more often if you’re lucky) you meet a character so rich and colorful that it can be intimidating for someone like me to convey the ex­perience of their story and depth of their knowledge on the mere page. Master horseman L. Dutch van Dierendonck is one of them. This September, he will even be an honored volunteer at the World Equestrian Games in Lexington, KY.

Dutch may be a lot of things, but I wouldn’t consider him a cowboy. Maybe it is just because I grew up out West, but until meeting him, I thought most everyone on a horse to be a cowboy or well, an Indian. Dutch is neither. He is a classically trained riding master. “The earliest record of what we know Classi­cal Riding to be today came from a gentleman by the name of Xenophon, some 400 years before Christ. This knowledge was passed down and a Frenchmen in the 1700’s named De La Gueriniere. He started teaching French royals Classi­cal Riding, an art form which has been practiced for four or five hundred years. In this art form, man and horse work together so that the horse’s every action appears seamless. Seamless in a way that the average person can’t even see what you are asking the horse to do or why or how. It is a lot of fun,” explains Dutch in what came to be a mini-education in the world of Dressage or Clas­sical Riding. After a few hours, Dutch was able to scratch the surface of reins, bits and how to loosen yourself into a saddle.

While I sat on a ‘fake steed’ stool and tried to look cool, Dutch discussed the differences between English and Western saddles as well as spoke about some of Europe’s Classical Riding schools. “At the Spanish Riding School in Vi­enna, Austria, students spend three years getting ready to go into the arena. The school was started in 1542 with the gift of sixteen horses by the Queen of Spain. The horses are called Lipizzans, but they are really Andalusians (Andalusia is the old name for all of Spain and the Andalusian is the national horse). They are born dark and turn white at the age of four or five. I have three of them,” smiled Dutch, “The Lipizzan part of the name comes from the pasture (which happens to be a small country) where the mares are bred and allowed for raise their young. The grass is good and the ground is hard, which toughens up their feet and muscles. One of the best schools commercially available to any rider is located in Germany and is called von Neidorf. There, classically trained gentle­men would instruct from their decks in boots, breeches, shirt, tie and jacket. Everything is done with propriety.”

Dutch was born in 1934 and has been riding since around age six when his uncle would put him up on the work horses pulling plows. His early life was no bowl of cherries as his barge captain father was killed after he went over­board, which resulted in Dutch and his brothers in an orphanage in Cincinnati. “Around that time, there was a particular horse making public appearances and he made one at my orphanage. The horse had been presented to the Emperor of Japan by Hitler during the Second World War. When they were defeated, the horse named Hiateshumo, was taken and presented to McArthur (who hated horses). He, in turn, gave it to his attaché Lieutenant Reed. He took a discharge after the war and traveled around the country visiting county fairs and such with Hiateshumo. When they came to my orphanage, I got friendly with him and the horse and ended up travelling all over the Midwest with them. That was the be­ginning of the whole damn thing, right there,” says Dutch as he points a finger at himself standing next to Hiateshumo in a photo (at left identified as Leo).

After returning to the orphanage, Dutch ran away at the tender age of nine or ten. “I started early that morning under the guise of going Christmas shop­ping and I hitch hiked south about 140 miles to Kentucky. I walked the last three miles of dirt road in the dark. I was headed for my uncle’s place and I showed up on his door step at about ten o’clock at night,” remembers Dutch. At around fourteen or fifteen, Dutch found himself having “community relations” problems when he kept getting caught running moonshine for his grandfather. “Eventually, the mayor, chief of police and my mother decided it was time for me to join the National Guard. Of course, that wasn’t enough because it only tied up a few weekends of my time. At sixteen and a half, they stuck me in the Navy, which put me in Korea. When I finished what they called a ‘Kiddie Cruise’ and received my automatic discharge at age 21, I found that what I had been taught to do did not translate into civilian life. So, I re-enlisted in the Air Force.”

Always a firm believer that the ladies are where the horses are, Dutch found himself later in life in California. “Many moons later, I was out doing my thing which at the time was living in the Santa Monica, Malibu area hunting the fairer sex. In the course of things, I met my wife Jan. She was working at a shop where I was having my car repaired. She was the first girl to keep me at an arm’s distance for a helluva long time. Before I knew it, I had absolutely convinced myself that I had to have her in my life. We moved in together and have stuck together for more than 45 years now. She is the best partner I have ever had. She has never failed to be there for me even when one of my jobs took us to South America. We were living in Honduras, but working in countries like Nicaragua during the sixties. We came back home shortly after Kennedy’s death. I’ll never forget the way the authorities reacted when we landed in Florida by private charter with three or four horses, some Australian Shepherds and packing heat. From there we headed back to California.”

To make many stories short, Dutch continued working with horses and ended up study­ing with riding legends from all over the world. He even spent time working with Vaque­ros who taught him how to work with reins, bridles and bits that would make anyone but a master horseman shudder. It was a teacher by the name of Dietrich von Hopfgarten who introduced and schooled Dutch in Dressage or Classical Riding. “I had been riding all my life. I knew what I was doing, but he showed me that I had a very small idea of what I knew. He took me into a world of refinement of what I had already been doing.”

A few years back, Jan and Dutch decided to move a few miles east of Snowflake. Dutch opened the Silvercreek Equestrian Center where he offers lessons, clinics, horse training and boarding. As I interviewed him before what appears to be the largest library in the state devoted to the subject of horses, it became clear to me that if anyone is interested in learning horsemanship, Dutch would be the man to talk to. He is currently accepting new students and is always happy to answer questions regarding horsemanship. “The differ­ence between good riding and bad riding is the rider. The horse is what he is. What you do with him is entirely up to you. The horse is not a fighter. The minute someone tells me they have a problem horse, I know I have a problem horse person on my hands. A horse is born as a prey creature: his eyes are on the side of his head, his ears are up high to catch sound and he can smell potential threats from a mile away. His only real defense is flight. As matter of fact, this may sound a little kooky to some people, but I don’t care. It works for me. When I go to work with a new horse, I religiously abstain from eating meat for about three days before I work with the horse. Red meat makes you stink like a human, a possible predator. The horse can smell it.”

Near the end of our discussion, Dutch reflected on the challange of riding and staying in the saddle, “Every horse is a different horse. What I like about riding horses is the chal­lenge that no matter how good you think you are, there is going to come along a horse that will try you. You have to have the knowledge, skills, tact and sensitivity to learn how to work with that horse. I have been broken up really, really badly throughout my life. I have one kidney, both shoulders have been rebuilt, my left hip has been replaced, and my neck and back are a constant issue. I am a product of my environment and I wouldn’t change a thing. As long as I can crawl up on the horse and teach, I am happy. I have a good time with this. I just celebrated my 76th birthday and I don’t plan on quitting any time soon. I will continue to ride, to teach, hold clinics and write.”

For more information about lessons, Classical Riding and horsemanship, please call Dutch at 928-536-3415. Be sure to let him know you read about him in the Maverick.