Where I Stand — Brian Greenspun: Legend in his own right

Friday, April 30, 2004 | 6:11 a.m.

DAN CHANDLER used to say that he was just like his father, without the accomplishments.

For all of his friends -- and the really good ones numbered in the hundreds -- that was just Dan talking because his accomplishments were legend. And they all had to do with being a friend.

Dan was the youngest son of another legend. Albert Benjamin "Happy" Chandler did all there was to do in one man's lifetime. He was governor of Kentucky from 1935 to 1939, a position that cemented Dan's future as the son of one of the great icons of the Bluegrass State. He spent a lifetime trying to live up to his name. And, as if the top political spot in what his Daddy called "the promised land" was not enough, Happy Chandler laid claim to the earthshaking moment in sports history.

Dan's father succeeded the tough-minded and immovable Kenesaw Mountain Landis as the commissioner of baseball and in 1947 did what no other man dared to do. He stood up to 15 major league owners and supported the head of the Brooklyn Dodgers, Branch Rickey, when he signed the first black player in major league history. When Chandler said yes to Jackie Robinson, when most of baseball and a lot of the country -- especially the part from where Chandler came -- were saying no, he changed forever the face of professional sports and made himself a hero for generations yet unborn.

Living up to that kind of legend was no easy task and my friend Dan would be the first to admit it. He was also the first to embrace that legacy, which forever made him a favorite son of Kentucky. Of course, being a favorite son did not always mean he was in good favor. Dan had an indefatigable gift of gab and an unquenchable thirst for living life not only to the edge, but also many times over it.

For him, there was only one place that could handle his love of this great life. Las Vegas. So this is where he made his home. It gave him the freedom to be the warm and caring man that he was as well as the opportunity to bridge the miles between his considerable number of gambling buddies in Kentucky and his duck-to-water job of hosting them in the mecca called Vegas. Dan was a natural.

Dan was laid to rest Friday not far from the scene of his favorite sporting event. A sporting event, I might add, that is the favorite for millions of people the world over. We have all heard a lot about the Kentucky Derby, but unless you had the pleasure of Dan's company when the Sport of Kings strutted its royal stuff at Churchill Downs, you had, as the man says, "never seen anything yet."

Whether it was staying in his Daddy's cabin in Versailles -- the scene of a post-race fried chicken bash the likes of which defy description -- or visiting the incredible horse country of Lexington, or taking that short ride to the Derby aboard the Governor's train, there was nothing like it and no way to do it without Dan Chandler's blessing and divine-like intervention. Just ask Claudine Williams and former strike force lawyer, Richard Crane.

Dan died in his sleep in that cabin he loved so much just a few days before Saturday's Kentucky Derby. The first weekend in May was always a high point in the life of "the man" from Kentucky. Dan's life had some very low points, too.

The lowest time in my friend Dan's life was when his son, Joseph Daniel Chandler Jr., died 11 years ago. It was the kind of tragedy from which most parents never recover and I daresay Dan had his moments. The coroner ruled the death a suicide although Dan and some renowned experts knew differently. Sure, his son had his share of demons but nobody sets out to kill himself by playing Russian Roulette. That's when you put one bullet in a six shooter and spin the cartridge. Not knowing where the live bullet is, you pull the trigger. You have an 85 percent chance of survival!

It is stupid and it is downright crazy and you have to be nuts to play that game. OK, Dan knew his son was troubled -- he was not of sober mind -- but he also knew he never would have taken his own life. The coroner didn't agree, and as much as Dan tried to get an impartial judge to consider the facts, an intractable district attorney would not allow the case to be heard, thereby not giving a father the satisfaction of knowing he tried. It was inhuman and it ate at Dan for as long as he lived.

I heard of Dan's death from one of his longtime friends, Dick Traweek, who called to tell me the sad news. He was already on his way to the Bel Air Country Club in Los Angeles --- where Dan was the only nonmember member, as near as I could tell -- to move the American flag to half-mast. Dan could tell the best stories at the drop of a hat and the guys at Bel Air loved his stuff which made him a fixture at the round table of distinction. They will miss him there, too. Heck, guys everywhere loved to be holed up with The Man when he was on a roll. Which was almost all the time.

I don't know how and if Dan ever came to grips with the giant shadow his father cast his way and I am pretty sure his son's death haunted him to the end. But I do know that a whole lot of us lost a man we can never replace, a man of many accomplishments. Chief among those accomplishments was his stubborn loyalty to those he called friends. As is often the case, he was a better friend to most of us than we were to him.

And I also know this. Right now Dan Chandler is back with the man called Happy, telling him how he kept the legend alive. And Dan is also with his son, learning the truth and finally, putting that tragedy to rest. All is right in Dan's world.

You might say our friend, Dan, is Happy now.