Whether it was ponies or politics, Ray Kerrison was, as a former colleague described him on Monday, “New York’s quintessential columnist.”
Kerrison, who wrote for The Post from 1976 to 2013 as a news columnist and horse racing columnist, covering 32 Kentucky Derby and countless other Triple Crown races, died Sunday after a short illness. He was 92 years old.
“Ray was as smart and kind and dry and witty and as dedicated to his craft as any reporter I’ve known,” said Bob McManus, retired editorial page editor of the Post. “He was a man of unwavering principles, which was evident in his writing about him, but also a man who respected the intelligence of his readers. His goal was to persuade, not to lecture, and while his work could be controversial, he was always honest. And he was a friend.
A friend of all, apparently.
“One of the nicest people I’ve ever met in my life,” said Ed Fountaine, a former horse racing writer at the Post. “No one could say anything bad about him. Working with him has been one of the pleasures of my career there. A true professional. At 82 he was on the track at 6 in the morning in the rain.
Raymond William Kerrison was born on 2 March 1930 in Cobdogla, near Renmark in the Riverland district of South Australia. He began his journalism career in his native country and joined News Limited in 1963 in its New York office. Ray moved there to edit the National Star, Rupert Murdoch’s first American publication, in the early 1970s, then moved to the Post in 1976 to cover horse racing.
“Even when he retired, he was so amazed by his journey,” his son Damien said. “He was born and raised in the Australian bush. So to come out of there and be so successful in the New York market has been a wonderful accomplishment. I know he was greatly admired by his colleagues. Everyone has a soft spot for him.
“All I can tell you is Ray Kerrison was just a wonderful human being,” said Greg Gallo, a former Post Sports editor who began working with Kerrison in 1973. completely. But he was so nice in the way he did his business.
“I called him the Fred Astaire of thoroughbred racing because he was the best. He was the smartest guy to ever work this beat. No one was better as a reporter. … We have truly lost someone special here.
“Ray Kerrison was one of a group of prominent Australian journalists, including Steve Dunleavy, Neal Travis, Peter Brennan, Ian Rae and John Canning, who arrived in New York in the 1970s and left an indelible mark on the printing industry with their skills and talents, said former Post editor Col. Allan. “Unlike his friends, Ray lived a quieter life but was deeply respected for his principles, integrity and warmth. I will miss him.”
“One of the nicest people you could find, unusual in the world of print,” said Eric Fettmann, who has edited his columns since 1994. “He was persuasive without being strident or dogmatic. And it was a pleasure to edit, not that his column needed much editing. He was a simple but elegant writer.
Kerrison covered many major news events, including the assassination of Martin Luther King in 1968, the first moon landing in 1969, and the tragedy at the Munich Olympics in 1972. And in 1977, Kerrison uncovered a horse racing scandal in which one horse raced under the name of another in Belmont Park. For this reporting, Kerrison was nominated for a Pulitzer Prize.
“Do you want to know the most amazing thing about my father?” said Patrick, his youngest son. “In 92 years he has never cursed. Not once. There were seven of us and a 59 year old female and we gave her many reasons to do so.
A vigil will be held Tuesday from 5:00 to 9:00 p.m. at the Blackley Funeral Home, 809 Broad Ave., Ridgefield, NJ. Funeral Mass will be held Wednesday at 9:30 am at St. Matthew’s Church, 555 Prospect Ave., Ridgefield.
In addition to children Damien and Patrick, Kerrison is survived by daughters Catherine, Loretta, Louise and Francesca, and son Gregory, as well as 18 grandchildren and 11 great-grandchildren. He predeceased his wife, Monica, a daughter, Maria, and a son, John.
“I remember sitting in the press box with him in Saratoga,” Patrick said. “One of the few times I’ve been allowed to do this. And he said, ‘OK, Lovey — he and my mom all called us kids Lovey — it’s time for dad to work.
“And I just remember sitting there and watching him, cigarette in hand, typing, looking at the race form and thinking ‘That’s my dad. That’s so cool.”
