"This story isn’t about me!” Richard Eckfield, who’s been on a three-year crusade to get a train stop built at the Del Mar Racetrack, is adamant. “It’s a much larger issue.” But Eckfield’s relentless dedication, the single-mindedness with which he’s pursued his quarry, tell a different tale — the tale of a retiree and his wife who’ve spent many of their waking hours, not to mention $15,000, to advance a project that they feel is vital for the health of Thoroughbred horse racing.

Richard Eckfield, at 72, is a vigorous man with a pile of snow-white hair, matching goatee, and piercing blue eyes. His voice booms with enthusiasm — and, at times, frustration — when he talks about the project, which has been part of the fairground’s master plan since 1985. I meet him, along with his wife, Helen Nielsen-Eckfield, at Champs Pub and Deli on Miramar Road; the proprietor, it turns out, is not only a friend of Eckfield’s but a racehorse owner as well — a fact that typifies the couple’s connections to the well-heeled horsey set and to Del Mar racing in particular. (Ironically, Eckfield is neither a horse owner nor handicapper but works as an usher at the Del Mar meet.)

In 2006, while dining with Dr. Steven Buttgenbach, the then–Del Mar track veterinarian, Carlsbad denizens Richard and Helen Eckfield seized upon the notion that if a train stop were ever to grace the Del Mar Fairgrounds, as it had decades before, it would be by dint of their will. Since then, the Eckfields’ efforts have been incessant, spelled out exhaustively in their column “Savvy Seniors, Frugal and Active,” which appears in small North County weeklies such as the Carmel Valley News, Del Mar Village Voice, and Rancho Santa Fe Review. Throw in meetings and photo ops with local politicians, testimony before various governmental boards, as well as constant emails, letters, and phone calls, and the picture of a crusader emerges.

In 2008, the Eckfields persuaded two San Diego–area consulting firms to work on an anonymous, pro bono basis to analyze the project. Their studies confirm what generally all the players agree upon — namely, that an increase in rail traffic generated by a new seasonal, permanent platform would require replacement of the trestle across the San Dieguito River. Built in 1916, the structure, just south of the proposed platform site, is, according to Eckfield, “probably held up by barnacles.” Double tracking from the platform north to the Solana Beach station would also be necessary; without parallel north and south tracks, the already interminable delays — caused when a train must pull off onto a siding to allow an oncoming train to pass — would be exacerbated. Additionally, due to topographic, environmental, and right-of-way complications, it is likely that a tunnel would need to be built — perhaps under Del Mar.

With evangelical zeal, Richard Eckfield (Helen defers to his vocal lead) trumpets his contention that the project would not only improve access to the races and the fair but help San Diegans conserve oil and reduce air pollution by taking cars off the road. He also cites a safety angle. “I see people after the races who are extremely drunk.

And when they have the reggae concerts, they smoke so much pot that they can’t stand up straight.” Taking this “something for everyone” stance, the Eckfields maintain that the proposed train stop has “no downside.” If so, why hasn’t it come to fruition? When pressed, they say that the reasons are a bit murky but that the powers that be are “preoccupied” with other things, including a much-criticized proposal to construct a condo-hotel, health club/spa, and other enterprises on the fairgrounds. This discussion inevitably leads one to the question: Who runs the fairgrounds? The answer is the 22nd District Agricultural Association, or Fair Board, as it’s colloquially known — a low-profile (some would say secretive) but high-powered state agency led by a nine-member board of directors appointed by the governor. In San Diego, the public face of the Fair Board is its executive director, Tim Fennell, better known to most San Diegans for his rejected raise request than for his role in carrying out the wishes of the directors.

When I mention Richard Eckfield to Tim Fennell, he bursts out, “I don’t even want to be in the same article with him.” Although Fennell says that a fairgrounds train stop is indeed a worthwhile project that he and the Fair Board support, he fairly bristles when I bring up Eckfield’s ongoing accusations. Fennell calls Eckfield a “self-promoter” who “lacks credibility” and “who claims to be many things.” I pose the central question to Fennell: Why the delays? He responds by saying that it all boils down to a lack of funding; he pegs the total project cost at about $80 million. When I quote Eckfield’s estimate of a “few million dollars,” Fennell responds dismissively, saying that “Eckfield doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

As it turns out, the Eckfields have dogged Fennell and the Fair Board members by attending the monthly meetings held at the fairgrounds. They characterize the meetings as self-congratulatory sessions in which well-connected, wealthy appointees do next to nothing for the public good. “It’s like the court of Versailles — you know, ‘Let them eat cake.’ ” Eckfield suggests that the Fair Board members, such as Russ Penniman of Rancho Santa Fe, are so inextricably tied to lucrative real estate development that, no matter what Fennell says, the board’s priorities are, at the least, incongruent with the best uses of this high-priced piece of state-owned land. Fennell vigorously denies allegations of incompetence or favoritism and implies that Eckfield’s passion is part of a personal vendetta against him. (Russ Penniman did not return phone calls for this story.)

Despite his discomfiture with the board’s governance, Richard Eckfield notes with enthusiasm that even Tim Fennell — in a phone conversation recorded on Eckfield’s answering machine in 2007 — has elucidated “even more reasons” why the train stop is a good idea. For his part, Fennell has suggested that year-round attendance at the fairgrounds — whether for an orchid exhibition, gun show, or any other nonracing event — would be enhanced by giving single-car families, not to mention the car-bereft, the opportunity to get to the venue. Eckfield concedes, however, that even without the potential benefit for fair attendees, he’d still be in favor of the project. And, he admits, no studies have been undertaken to quantify the hoped-for upswing in attendance and resultant revenues.

To sort out the various cost projections, as well as clarify the engineering issues inherent to the project, I seek out Linda Culp, a senior project manager for the San Diego Association of Governments (Sandag). Like almost everyone else with whom I speak, Culp is in favor of the train stop but makes the point that building it isn’t quite as simple as Richard Eckfield believes it to be. To begin with, there’s a veritable Gordian knot of governmental agencies and jurisdictions involved, including Sandag (the lead agency), the Fair Board, the City of Del Mar, the North County Transit District, the California Coastal Commission, San Diego County, and a few others. According to Culp, cost — she says that Sandag places it at some $88 to $90 million — has been the principal culprit in the delays. To that end, Culp says that her organization has applied to Washington for federal stimulus funds earmarked for the two costliest and most crucial infrastructure components of the project — the replacement for the old trestle bridge and the mile or more of double tracking. Culp is optimistic that the application will be approved and that the rail stop will be completed in five to ten years.

Del Mar mayor Crystal Crawford also says she’s on board, noting that both Thoroughbred racing and the San Diego County Fair are essential to Del Mar’s identity. She notes, however, that the train stop has been “just one of many items on Del Mar’s infrastructure-improvement wish list.” Although she appreciates the Eckfields’ efforts, she points out the obvious hurdles faced in moving forward with the project. Among those, she says, are the evident environmental concerns regarding the San Dieguito Lagoon, a “sensitive” area whose wealthy neighbors may, she notes, object to the degradation of the “viewshed” that will occur when the railbed is raised by at least six to eight feet.

Although not as critical of the City of Del Mar as he is of the Fair Board, Eckfield characterizes Crawford’s position as “lip service,” saying that the mayor “works for Sandag.” Crawford refers me to Jacqueline Winterer, one of her mayoral predecessors, for an additional perspective. Winterer, who is president of the Friends of the San Dieguito River Valley and who takes credit for having spearheaded efforts to preserve local wetlands, labels Richard Eckfield a “single-issue guy in a very complex matter,” who tends to minimize the difficulties of the project. She also notes that the project has never come up for a vote among Del Mar residents. When asked to comment on local opposition to the rail stop, she recommends I chat with a woman whom she describes as being “just as extreme” an opponent as Eckfield is a proponent.

For Sharon Feierabend, a Del Mar resident, Sandag and its allies aren’t bureaucratic obstructionists but, in fact, enablers and promulgators of a “ridiculous project” that is not only a “waste of taxpayers’ money” but a venture that would degrade the quality of life for locals. She says that she’s “never heard of” Richard Eckfield and that “he must be a Johnny-come-lately.” But like the Eckfields, Feierabend is a feisty retiree with a lot of time on her hands, quite a bit of which has been spent during the past five years “researching” the issue. An Iowan who followed her husband to Del Mar in the early 1960s, she takes pride in having pushed for Del Mar’s incorporation, as well as in playing a vital role in “saving the lagoon.” Her objections to the project form a long, eclectic, and occasionally disjointed litany — centered not on the platform itself but on the rail improvements needed for the anticipated increase in train traffic along the route.

“I am so irate at the Del Mar City Council and Sandag. They want to spend millions of dollars on this old diesel technology and build a tunnel under Del Mar; they haven’t even done soil studies to see if it’s viable. Also, it’s a proven fact that railroads create tiny metal shards, which people living near the tracks inhale.” Feierabend (who fervently champions the use of buses) hates trains, and if she had her way, the entire railroad line along San Diego County’s coast would be uprooted in favor of a bike path. Calling the Coaster “a complete fiasco,” she says that only about 2500 commuters currently use the train and that the rail line’s location, hard on the Pacific, inherently precludes the level of use that would justify the cost because “no one lives to the west except for the fish.”

For Eckfield, the trackside train stop is not only a means to get more people to the races but a symbolic blow in favor of mass transit. “I’m a history guy. Do you remember the Red Cars?” Eckfield, who grew up in Pasadena, recalls with fondness the era in which a light rail system crisscrossed the greater Los Angeles area. Eckfield’s nostalgia for this long-defunct mass transit system is accompanied by an equally intense antipathy toward the automobiles that rendered the Red Car network a relic. Decrying the Southern California car culture, he vigorously castigates “people who drive ten-mile-per-gallon Hummers at 80 on the freeway.”

More immediately though, Eckfield longs for the day when Thoroughbred owners and big-time horseplayers from Orange and Los Angeles counties can take the train directly to the track without using “the stinky old double-decker buses” that currently ferry them a mile or so from the Solana Beach stop. He also feels that it’s urgent that far-flung race fans — the folks who rent tony condos for thousands per week during the meet — be inconvenienced as little as possible. To that end, he mentions an acquaintance from Chicago who complains of the “noisy buses” and “drunken partiers” who spoil the serenity of his Cedros Avenue race-meet hangout.

To the extent a controversy over the rail stop exists, Joe Harper, who has been lauded extensively for his stewardship as president of the Del Mar Thoroughbred Club, takes an upbeat, conciliatory approach. Although he welcomes anything that would draw more fans to the track, he says that Del Mar — the economy notwithstanding — is far from suffering these days.

He points out that Del Mar “does three times the business of other tracks with the same product.” Moreover, Harper says that the double-decker shuttle buses from the Solana Beach station have worked well and that he’s heard no complaints. “The rail stop would be nice, but we’ve gotten along well without it for decades.” When I ask him to comment on Fennell, he says, wryly, “I never disagree with my landlord.”