Carry Me BACK: Coming Out, Then Going Off the Rails

Carry Me BACK: Coming Out, Then Going Off the Rails

By Jimmy Hatcher

I called Mimi Abel-Smith recently to find out the date of her long ago coming out party at the St. Regis Hotel in New York City. She told me it was June 29, 1954, and I still have great memories almost 70 years later.

Mary Chichester Mills (right) wore an offwhite organdie gown with white sequins for her debutante party in New York in 1954. From far left, her friend Nancy Gerry (now Bedford) her mother Alice duPont Mills and D.B. Parish. Other friends included Nina Winthrop (now Bonnie), Catherine Mellon and Nina Auchincloss all to the toe tapping music of the Lester Lanin orchestra.

I first met Mimi at the Loudoun Junior Horse Show at Glenwood Park in 1951 (feel free to ask me who was champion), but had not seen her since with the brief exception of Cathy Mellon’s party earlier that June.

Mimi‘s celebration was scheduled just before the annual July 4 horse show in Culpeper. I had planned to ride in that event, so I had already sent my regrets for Mimi’s party. But her roommate at Mount Vernon College in Washington, Mary Ann Saunders, called and convinced me to make trip to New York.

We were both from Richmond and she told me she was planning to drive north for the party, then stay a few more days. She kindly offered to give me a ride up, then take me to the train so I could make a quick trip back and not miss too much saddle time in Culpeper.

I don’t recall much about the drive north, but I do recall the party as if it was yesterday. Mimi was beautiful, as was the bathed in pink St. Regis ballroom.

Going up on the hotel elevator, I was standing near a gentleman who looked very familiar. I later learned he was Mimi‘s father, James P. Mills, an internationally known polo player. I asked him if it was possible I’d seen him at a horse show in Virginia. He responded as any self-respecting polo star had the right to answer, “I hope the hell not!” In any case, the party was truly glorious and true to Mary Anne’s word, she got me to the train station in plenty of time. All went well until we reached Union Station in Washington. I happened to ask the porter what time the train would be getting into Richmond. He replied with a smile. “Boss I’ve been on this train for 20 years and it hasn’t been to Richmond yet.” Horrified, I asked him where it was going. To my chagrin he replied, “Charlottesville.” “So what do I have to do to get to Richmond?” I asked. With great humor, he answered “the train from New York to Richmond is just ahead of us and I’ll see if I can get you on. What’s your name?” “Hatcher,” I answered. “Jimmy Hatcher.” He said he’d see what he could do so, so I grabbed my hanging bag and small suitcase and got off that train to Charlottesville as quickly as I could. Seconds later, I ran smack into a very tall conductor who immediately asked me, “is your name Hatcher?” “Yes sir,” I replied. “Well hurry up, we’re holding the train to Richmond for you.” So railroad people everywhere, I certainly hope you’re still holding trains for slightly confused college boys. Richmond, there I went.