Santa Anita is so much of a good thing - can horse racing hope to keep it forever?

I've been developing a John Wayne fantasy from continually strolling along the dusty lanes between the ancient wooden barns where they keep the racehorses of Santa Anita. I don't suppose Rio Bravo was actually filmed here but if you squint your eyes, which the pitiless sun forces you to do anyway, it's the easiest thing to imagine yourself on that set, trying to keep up with Angie Dickinson's wisecracks, hoping Ward Bond isn't around the next corner.

The buildings appear to be mostly wooden planks, sturdy enough but still suggestive of words like "ramshackle". Laundry is hung out on improvised lines, mostly saddlecloths and bandages. Some attempts have been made to create a homey atmosphere; you see the odd rose bush or a ceramic jockey on a tiny patch of grass. But this is a place for horses and comforts for humans are not easily spotted.

It's bustling during the three hours of morning exercise, horses converging from all directions, and you need to keep your head on a swivel or one'll turn up behind you and shove you aside with his massive slab of a shoulder.