From Training to Equine Therapy, Chews Finding New Balance in Idaho

A good 10 years ago in the Santa Anita paddock garden, former trainer Matt Chew was leading a stately old schoolmaster named Fred through and around an afternoon gathering of children with developmental issues when a diminutive figure from the crowd locked eyes with the horse.

“I walked over and handed him the shank and said, 'here, take him. He's yours,'” says Chew about the curious soul, a 10-year-old named Austin, onto whom he foisted the docile Fred.

“He starts walking around with the horse and he starts talking to him, 'oh, you're a beautiful horse. This is wonderful. You're so great. Dah, dah, dah. My name is Austin, I'm 10 years old,'” Chew recounts.

Several observers that day, however, appeared shocked. “Their jaws dropped,” says Chew. “They looked horrified.”

Anticipating a few feathers needing unruffling, Chew's wife Candie Coder-Chew marched over to the thunderstruck group—some of them in tears—lavishing apologies and assurances about the horse's temperament.

“One of the women goes, 'no, it's that Austin doesn't talk. He had experienced a trauma a few years earlier that had shut him down verbally.' So, he was nonverbal, autistic, and this horse brought him out of it,” says Chew. “And to this day, he is still speaking.”

This anecdote has been worn smooth by Chew's retelling over the intervening years, with good reason, for it encapsulates the sense of purpose that has driven the Chews the nearly 1,400 miles from Los Angeles, California, where Matt had trained for decades, to Hayden, Idaho, where they now run a racehorse aftercare facility and equine therapy program for local foster kids, Champions Retreat.

A sense of purpose propelled by the knowledge that within the 1,000 pounds of thundering horseflesh seemingly a hair's breadth away from careening dangerously out of control is an intuitive mind capable of plunging the deepest reserves of empathy.

“These horses are amazing. They seem to understand from the energy coming off of these kids that there's a need for one another,” says Chew of his stable of eight retirees, all of them from California–horses like Silken Prince, a useful claimer under Chew's tutelage before the trainer's retirement in 2020.

Matt Chew | Courtesy of Candie Coder-Chew

“The horses really do interact with these foster kids in a different way than when they act with normal people,” he says. “And I can't explain it. I don't fully understand it, but I've witnessed that dozens of times. There's just a connection that's formed.”

Their 18-acre Idaho ranch is the sort of place that would set Grizzly Adams's heart aflutter.

Eight acres of green pasture. A large barn with 10-feet by 20-feet stalls. An indoor arena. An outdoor arena. And all of this abutting a vast leafy wilderness.

“This is National Forest. We walk out our back fence and we have 350 acres of trails which we've erected on some of the old logging roads. We built a cross country course back there for jumping, and it makes for some lovely riding,” says Chew. “And we have a view of a lake.”

The Chews set up shop some three years ago, unsure quite what kind of program they would offer to whom.

It started with the children of a few local friends with autism or anxiety issues. Some adults that had physical or mental challenges. A few military veterans. Domestic violence survivors.

That's when they were approached by Fostering Idaho, a nearby program that links foster kids and families.

“They asked if we'd be interested in working with them. At that point, they asked us, 'how many kids do you want?' They basically filled up our dance card for us,” says Chew. “We had 42 kids total last year.”

While some kids approach the whole endeavor with all the reticence of an avalanche, “other kids, they're definitely afraid of horses, period,” says Chew. “And they're very intimidated. So, if we can get a kid to feed a carrot and pet a nose, that's a good day.”

“We have the type of horses where we can put somebody that's never ridden before on a horse and have it be a safe experience,” Chew says. “And then as they progress, we take them from the barn to our outside arena, and then when they get to a certain level, we're able to go on a trail ride.”

Some of the foster children have turned into repeat visitors. “They're welcome any time,” Chew says. But they have to earn their bacon.

“The kids that come back time after time, we do put them to work. We want them to understand that they have to, at some point, earn the right to ride these horses,” he says.

Coder-Chew remembers the first group of foster kids that came their way. “We weren't a hundred percent sure what to expect, so we were kind of winging it a little bit,” she says.

This first reconnaissance mission included two foster brothers, both around six or seven years of age. “One had been adopted by the foster family that brought these kids out. The other one had not,” she says.

The adoptee was a little chatterbox who took to horseback like a young Steve Cauthen. The other brother was more reserved, tentative. As the young boy hit the saddle, he took a sharp intake of breath, and held onto it as though diving for the sea floor.

“So, I asked him to take a deep breath and try to relax a little bit,” says Coder-Chew. “It took about three minutes, I think, and he took some deep breaths and sort of relaxed and petted the horse.”

After a few minutes of slow plodding, the young boy spotted his speedier brother, leaned down with a smile and whispered to Coder-Chew, “'can we go faster? I want to beat my brother,'” she remembers. “So went a little faster. And he was just having a great time and was very engaged by the end—not talking a lot but talking.”

Afterwards, the children and the horses were taken to a small area behind the barn for refreshments.

“This little kid, he walked very purposefully over to the horse, threw his arms around the horse's chest and leg. He was so small. And the horse, of course, bent over to kind of hug him back. I don't think there was a dry eye in the place. It was just pretty incredible, the connection this kid felt with this horse.”

Chew trained for nearly 40 years, during which time he sent out 400 winners from just over 4,000 runners. The majority of these wins came at the lower levels of the game.

“When you're training horses, you're consumed by it 24/7 from the minute you wake up to the time you go to bed,” said Chew. “I mean, it's all encompassing. And that's your entire world. And believe me, to work in racing is a privilege. It's hard. It's demanding. It sometimes sucks the life out of you. But it also gives you a feeling of elation when a horse runs well that you can't get in any other aspect of your life,” he says.

“I fully understand that what working with these kids has done for me is give me a lot more balance in my life. You don't get the extreme high of winning a race, but you also don't get the extreme lows that came with it.

“After you'd win a race, there'd be a time when you'd be walking back to the barn where it was a feeling of contentment. When the world is okay, everything's right, everything's good, and you just would have an overall feeling of well-being. Working with these kids, that feeling lasts for days, not just moments,” Chew says.

Champions Retreat | Courtesy Candie Coder-Chew

A self-described city-slicker, Chew's life-lessons have been both philosophical and practical over three years in a part of the country where the deep winters can wear as long and unrepentant as the summers are short.

A flick through one of their newsletters gives a glimpse into these seasonal toils:

“Winter is near and we feel the pressure of the seasonal changes to get prepared for the cold weather. Matt has been cutting down trees, splitting wood, repairing fences and structures. We have all of our hay in the barn to last through June and have seeded the pasture for spring grass,” they wrote in fall of last year.

“I thought I could I never build anything in my life,” admits Chew. “And I've built shelters and feed sheds, for God's sake. I have two chain saws now. If you'd have told me 10 years ago that I'm going to be in a position where I'm going to need two chainsaws, I'd have said you're nuts.”

Ask Chew who should take credit for much of the heavy lifting and he barely takes a breath.

“My wife,” he replies. “She found the property. She knew it was my vision to work with kids but it was her vision to provide a place for retired race horses. And she made it happen. Without her, this dream would not have materialized.”

Eight horses are a lot to care for. Nor are they cheap. Appetites are huge. Upkeep is near constant. And Champions Retreat is a free service.

“We like to say we have donations and grants, but we also self-fund about 25% of this operation. So, it takes a special commitment to do it,” Coder-Chew says, adding how several of Chew's former owners have supported them financially.

“I think the one thing I would absolutely mention is how supportive the racing industry is of aftercare programs for retired thoroughbreds,” says Coder-Chew, former California Retirement Management Account (CARMA) board president.

“That's something that we're so grateful for because we wouldn't be able to do what we do if we didn't have the support of the Thoroughbred Aftercare Alliance, TCA [Thoroughbred Charities of America] and CARMA. That's huge,” she says.

Given the departure from their old life, do the Chews have any regrets or misgivings?

“None,” says Chew, empathically. “In the racing environment, in order for me to prosper, somebody has to lose. That's just the way it is in any sport. We've tried to create an environment where when you walk onto our property, whether you had four legs or two legs, you're going to be better off when you leave. And we feel like we've accomplished that.”

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Retired Trainer Matt Chew To Build Equine Therapy Program For Individuals With Special Needs

Matt Chew, a third-generation horseman, bid goodbye to more than four decades as a trainer on Labor Day.

The 60-year-old grew up in the shadow of storied Santa Anita, where his father, Richard, earned his spurs. Grandfather William trained primarily in New York. Chew took out his trainer's license in 1982 on his 18th birthday and trained primarily in the Bay Area early in his career.

Now Matt hopes the future has something perhaps even more fulfilling than conditioning a Thoroughbred to win a race: helping those with special needs through programs he plans to develop.

One of countless everyday trainers who are the backbone of racing, not with abundant stakes winners but with mid-level campaigners, Chew never waivered in his philosophy: do what's right by the horse.

Matt and his wife of 35 years, Candace, purchased a home on 18 acres in Idaho north of Coeur d'Alene, about seven years ago. It has been a work in progress, and after the completion of the barn and indoor ring this fall, they will relocate their five OTTBs (off the track Thoroughbreds) and three Weimaraners to the new location overlooking Hayden Lake.

Matt's game plan is to have a safe haven for those with special needs who can benefit from the emotionally therapeutic environment the horses provide those with whom they're in contact. Additionally, there will be room for a few more retired racehorses to thrive.

One local episode graphically reveals such a healing process.

Matt tells the tale: “Pete Siberell (Director of Special Services and Community Projects) arranged for a group from Pasadena called Ability First that aided the developmentally disabled to come visit Santa Anita.

“Candie and I brought the park's mascot, Fred (one of the equine stand-ins for Seabiscuit in the movie of the same name) to the paddock one morning and we saw this young boy, maybe 11 or 12, looking at him real hard.

“I went over and handed him the shank. He took it and started walking with the horse, talking to him, telling him how pretty he was and what a great horse he was; he was having a conversation with him.

“Candie meanwhile looks over and sees three adults in the middle of the walking ring and their jaws are dropped; they look almost horrified. She realizes they are with the boy and begins to apologize.

“'I'm sorry,' she says. “My husband does these kinds of things. We really should have asked permission before he gave him the horse.'

“One of the women—it turned out to be the boy's mother—was sobbing. She finally told Candie that Austin (her son) doesn't talk. He was technically what they call non-verbal autistic.

“He had been through a traumatic incident several years back and since had not said a word—until that day.

“So winning races is great, of course, but witnessing something like this is beyond special.”

Candie is Santa Anita's dedicated and gifted Director of Print and Graphics. Both she and The Great Race Place have flourished under her astute guidance now going on three decades. Her most popular creation is the Wall Calendar, a traditional staple given to fans every Dec. 26.

The good news is, while Matt is retiring, Candie is not. “I will be working for Santa Anita as long as they will have me,” she says, “partially from Idaho, but at Santa Anita as much as I need to be.”

Candie also is President of the Board for CARMA (California Retirement Management Account), a program that has facilitated the successful efforts of the state to retrain and retire thousands of race horses in new homes. “I'm going to continue working at Santa Anita, but Matt will spearhead the operation in Idaho,” she said.

“He is excited about it. We have been planning this for a while, but it got moved up when it seemed the right time was sooner rather than later.

“Matt has a lot more experience with special needs kids than I do. He volunteered for a group in the Bay Area that had a riding program (Hippotherapy) for kids with cerebral palsy and that was a game changer.

“It gave him a new perspective and led us to eventually having a means of 'giving back.' Our plan is to have retired Thoroughbreds, with a program for PTSD-stricken vets to start, then explore what the community needs for other groups seeking equine-assisted therapy.

“It will require a lot of research and development, but it seems like the right thing to do.”

Amen.

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‘Solid Guy’ Matt Chew Off To A New Life Outside Racing

He didn't think he'd ever do it, but now he knows he will. Matt Chew, a man born and bred to be a racetracker, is going to walk away from the racetrack when the Del Mar meeting ends on Labor Day.

It's his choice and he's good with it.

“The last while it's just become clear to me that the time is right,” says the 60-year-old trainer who has been getting up at 3:30 in the morning for more than 40 years to greet racehorses in barns up and down California. “I'm not fully sure what I'm going to do – the racetrack is so consuming you don't get a chance to think about anything else – but I've got some ideas and I'm willing to try new things.”

To say the racetrack is in his blood is like saying that seals have slick on their backs. His father, Richard, was a horse trainer all his life. His grandfather, William, the same.

He grew up in Arcadia with Santa Anita as a backdrop. The siren's call was strong early on: he remembers climbing over the racetrack fence at age 15 when the track was closed and the horses were away just so he could walk among the barns and fantasize. When he'd finished high school he headed north to the Bay Area for his first job/love: assistant trainer to his father.

He watched, he learned, he experienced. Yup, this is it, he thought. And in 1982 he took out a license, hung out a shingle and started a life as a conditioner of Thoroughbreds.

That first year he had 90 starters, saw 18 of them win, 16 finish second and 10 run third while earning $172,032 in purses. Not bad for the new kid on the block, not bad at all. Almost four decades later he has sent 4,023 horses to the post, has seen 399 of them win, 417 finish second and 442 run third with purses totaling $9,374,621.

Those are good, steady numbers, the kind that reflect what Matt Chew is and has been over the years: one of the racetrack's solid guys. He's a backbone type. Folks like Chew – and those like him at any racetrack – are why those racetracks run. Without the “small” trainers – men and women handling four, eight, 12, 16 head – racing secretaries could not fill cards and the show would grind to a halt.

Right now, for instance, he has a dozen horses and they'll all go to other trainers and have good homes shortly. He wouldn't let it be any other way.

“The best part of this game is the mornings with the horses,” Chew offers. “I love coming to the barn and seeing each one of them. They're not there trying to sell you anything; they don't have agendas. They're honest. How they present themselves is how they are.”

He says he's liked nothing better than working with a horse who had some problems, getting them “right” and allowing them to run to their best ability. “That's especially rewarding,” he notes.

He's had several exceptional horses along the way and one that's close to his heart is a filly named Singing Kitty that he claimed for $32,000, then guided through a campaign that saw her win a trio of stakes and almost $400,000. “You remember those kind,” he says.

He's also had owners that have stuck with him through thick and thin. He mentions a Northern California lady named Lyn McDonald who raced horses with him for more than 30 years. He notes the Nicolas family – the father named Pierre and the son Matt – who have sent the Chews – both his father and himself – horses for 50 years. He was especially pleased when he won a straight maiden race on the turf earlier in the current meet for the son with an Irish-bred named Tallien.

Another who has stuck with him is a lady named Candace Coder-Chew. She was working for the Anderson Ranch near Sacramento where he used to send horses on occasion when he was training up north. They actually met over the phone, finally got to dating six months later, then wound up getting hitched. Ten days ago they celebrated 35 years of being married.

Candace, known as “Candy” to many, is an exceptional graphic artist and was offered a job at Santa Anita in 1993. It was an excellent opportunity and she and Matt decided – even though they were living and working in the Bay Area — they had to go for it.

“It was too good a situation for her – and us – to pass up, so I dispersed a barnful of horses at Bay Meadows and returned 'home' to Santa Anita,” Matt says. “Went from 25 head to rubbing one on my own.”

The switch has worked out well for the Chews. Candace is now director of print and graphics for Santa Anita and Matt went from one horse to a regular rotation of 10 to 20 runners each year in Southern California.

And it appears their next steps will work out well, too.

Along the way the Chews acquired a four-bedroom home on 18 pristine acres alongside Hayden Lake in Idaho, just a couple of miles north of Coeur d'Alene. There's a barn going in for horses and plans for it to be Matt's headquarters for a special program he has in mind.

“I've seen how exceptional it can be for kids with special needs to interact with horses,” he says. “For veterans suffering with PTSD, too. That's what I want to get involved in up there. I'll either join up with someone doing that or start my own program.”

There should be no problem getting the horses. Candace, a passionate horsewoman, last year was elected president of the board of CARMA (California Retirement Management Account), a program that has facilitated the successful efforts in the state to retrain, rehome and retire thousands of racehorses.

So shortly, Matt is headed north and Candace will stay steady with her work at Santa Anita and CARMA. He'll have regular chances to head south and take in the old stomping ground. She'll have her chances to head north and escape to the woods. They think it will be a nice blend.

As he prepares to head off to a new life, Chew was asked what he considers his “best moment” during his years at the racetrack. His answer is a beautiful one and tells you all you need to know about the man he is.

Chew has always been the “go to” guy when racetracks have needed a horse for something outside of the usual. When a TV station asked for a horse for a news piece or a feature or a backdrop, he was there with one of his. If you needed to take some visitors on the backside to see how it works, you went to the Chew barn. He would readily stick one in a trailer and take it downtown somewhere to be part of a special event.

So it was around the time when they were filming the movie “Seabiscuit” at Santa Anita in the early 2000s and the Chew barn was involved in providing horses for the various scenes. He had one horse they nicknamed “Fred” who was one of “Seabiscuit's” stand-ins.

“'Fred' was bulletproof; wouldn't hurt a fly,” Chew recalled. “We were working then with a group from Pasadena called Ability First that aided the developmentally disabled. They'd bring their people over and let them interact with the horses. Candy and I brought 'Fred' into the paddock one morning and when we did I saw this young boy – maybe 11 or 12 – looking at him real hard. So I went over and handed him the shank. He took it and started walking with the horse, talking to him and telling him how pretty he was and what a great horse he was; he was just having a total conversation with him.

“Candy meanwhile looks over and sees three adults in the middle of the walking ring and their jaws are dropped; they look almost horrified. She realizes that they are with the young boy and she begins to apologize. 'I'm sorry,' she says. 'My husband does these kind of things. We really should have asked permission before he gave him the horse.'

“One of women – it turned out to be the boy's mother – was sobbing. She finally told Candy that 'Austin doesn't talk.' It turned out her son was technically what they call non-verbal autistic. He had been through a traumatic incident several years back and since then had not said a word – until that day.

“So winning races is great, of course, but something that powerful is beyond special.”

Del Mar – and racing in California – is going to miss Matt Chew. His kind of solid is the foundation that all good things are built on. But Matt Chew is off to a unique new life that is going to be full of new challenges and new rewards.

And racetrackers everywhere salute him for it.

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