ST. LOUIS -- Cars from more than seven states overflowed the parking lot almost to Cella Road. The cars on the street stretched more than a half-mile long.
License plates left no doubt a large number of elected officials wanted to pay their last respects to Charles Cella.
Annunziata Catholic Church had no more space, not even standing room. The cry room was even in use, even though there wasn't a baby to be found. But there were plenty of tears through the church.
Members of the group from Oaklawn Park were all wearing ties from the Arkansas Derby, and there were more Cella-designed ties scattered throughout the church, a tribute to the man who epitomized success in the thoroughbred-racing industry.
If Charles had walked in and saw the crowd he probably would have asked why they didn't have anything better to do on a Saturday morning.
During the full mass, before the celebration of Charles' life, the priest managed to work in golf and the St. Louis Cardinals, two of Cella's many passions along with the song "God Bless America."
Later, in the personal time of the service, Bill Cravens would called Cella, "Unique, one of a kind."
No one who knew him would argue.
Cella once was interviewing a young lady for a job as his personal assistant and asked whether she dressed like that every day. Embarrassed, the lady admitted she had borrowed the pantsuit for the interview.
Cella, impressed with her honesty, hired her on the spot then reached into his pocket and pulled out some cash, handed it to her and told her to buy her own clothes.
She worked for him almost until the day she died.
Lonzo was his personal assistant around the house -- OK, he was like a butler only Cella hated that term -- and late one night he fired Lonzo, but the next morning Lonzo was at work. Cella asked, "Didn't I fire you last night?" Without a moment's hesitation Lonzo said, "Yes, but I didn't quit. You need me."
The subject was never broached again.
Cella tried to keep those soft touches secret, but there were too many to hide. A few years ago he started and financed a Hot Springs educational fund. He's given almost $6 million to the organization.
That big heart also had the beat of a warrior.
Years ago he and his childhood friend Ted Simmons, the other speaker Saturday, were world-ranked squash partners. Once they were flying to Denver for a tournament and Cella was the pilot. They ended up in Salinas, Kan. Cella blamed it on the navigation system.
He probably learned that from the time he decided to sail his children to Europe and ended up in Casablanca.
Those were unusual occurrences in the life of a man who saw only one way to do something -- the right way.
He once swore he would tear Oaklawn down before he would add a casino, then came the hard realities of a sport that can't get a foothold in the world of millennials. The gaming room at Oaklawn was a place he didn't frequent. Sons John and Louis ran that part of the operation.
Cella insisted part of the profits from the gaming room, which looks a lot like a casino, go into the track. Purses for the horsemen and Oaklawn are now on par with Santa Anita.
Those who were fortunate enough to be around Cella socially found him to be the most gracious host in the world, and they also found themselves singing "God Bless America" every time.
For the past 15 years Cella battled Parkinson's disease, and he did it with grace and dignity. That's the same way he left this earth last week at the age of 81, no doubt thinking about his three children and eight grandchildren.
Sports on 12/10/2017