THE TURF

Gisborne Times, Volume LXV, Issue 10230, 8 January 1927, Page 9

THE TURF

GALLANT RAPINE

GLORIOUS SUMMER, CUP WIN

Many demonstrations have taken place at Ellerslie* when good-class equines have achieved success in various events, but it is doubtful if a more prolonged burst of applause was ever given than that which greeted the return of Rapine to the saddling paddock on December 29 after winning, the Summer Cup. Quite a number of people felt aggrieved at Rapine’s scratching for the Auckland Cup, but even so, that did not stand in the way of a fitting reception being jpven the son of Martian and rider Roy Reed. The pair have been associated in many victorious battles in the past, but no previous performance appealed to the public to the same extent as on the 29th—hence the striking demonstration of pleasure. Rapine was at the rear of the big field of seventeen runners when the last five furlongs came to be undertaken and only the most optimistic could have given the Martian gelding winning prospects at that stage. The outlook was little better when a furlong more had been covered and the writer had no hesitation in counting him out. A hundred yards from the winning post the colors of Rapine came into the picture and the old fellow was stretching out as if he was starting out on a sprint mission. One after the other he mowed down and he was clear in front over the last twety yards, actually running away from ills opponents. Rapine treated his load of 10.3 as if it was a mere featherweight and he was really the least distressed of the whole of the runners when he returned to the birdcage. The gallant old chap, quite unconcerned at' the hand-clapping which came from all round him, walked up to be unsaddled without having turned a hair —a fine tribute to his condition. It is doubtful if. Rapine has ever been in better form and if he could be landed at Randwlck or Flemington in the same trim the best of the cracks of the Commonwealth would have a tough job to lower his colors.

GAMBLER’S COLD

FORTUNES SQUANDERED JX R ECXLESS BETTI NG.

Where are the big plungers of the turf to-day? Are there any? We have with us men who bet to a “pretty penny,” but, compared with the Victorian days, plunging is a dead art (thus a writer in tLie English paper, “The People”). Tor one very good reason—»it would be impossible to bet nowadays as did Walton, “The Archer Backer,” or the “Jubilee Plunger,” for there are not'-the layers with whom to make the bets. Where bookmakers of fifty years ago would lay the odds to £IO,OOO, now they will (and then with a lot of scheming) take perhaps £IOOO.

It was the custom of heavy betters of those reckless days to wager their fortunes and stand or lall on one horse, but in .these more careful times bookmaking is a matter of figures. Books .have to balance, and when even a modest amount is wagered with one layer he limits his liability by passing part of the money on to another.

DAYS OF CAUTION. We have our bold betters to-day, men like Charlie Hannam, but, if they cared to bet in thousands it is doubtful if they would be allowed to, as the layers take only so much on one horse, and then shut up tueir books so far as that animal is concerned. Not only that, but a few hundreds of pounds in these times will make a horse a hot favorite, and that automatically puts an end to the possibility of heavy betting ensuing. Of all splendid prodigals or past generations—men who could win or lose a large fortune as light-hearted-ly as they would order a breakfast—probably "the most gallant and brilliant was Colonel Henry Mellish, in whose very recklessness there was a spice of chivalry and romance. Never did man squander bis gold with more lavish hand, both on the turf and at the card table. He was known to have won £IOO,OOO at one sitting, and to have lost it all the next.' Once he staked £40,000 on a single throw of the dice, and lost; and on another occasion he lost £40,000 at a sitting to the Prince Regent. , , In the betting ling it is said “he never opened his mouth under £SOO, and his wagers more commonly ran into five figures,” as when Re lost £20,000 on Sancho in a match against the Duke of Cleveland’s Pavilion. After the race he lunched at the Star with the Roval party as calmly as it he had been losing threepenny points at whist.

ONLY A FARM LEFT. Enormous as bis fortune was, it could not stand long against such prodigal demands on it ; and within a few- years the gallant, if foolish, Colonel found all his magnificent estates dissipated, save one small farm to which he retired. Little less brilliant and reckless was Lord Glasgow, who thought as little of winning or losing £IOO,OOO in a week's racing as of sitting down to dinner.

Having once begun to plunge, he won £17,000 on Jerry in the St. Leger of 1824, and, lost £27,000 over Mameluke for the same event in 1827. The daring of his betting was enough to take the breath of old stage..* away. A story is told of how Loict George Bentinek looked iti at Crockford’s on the eve of the Derby of 1843 and expressed his readiness to take 3 tb 1 about >.s horse Gaper. “I’ll lay it to you,” said Lord Glasgow. “Yes,” said Lord George in his rather mincing way, “but then I want to do it in money.” “I’ll lay you. £90,000 to £30.000,” was the immediate answer, and then it was Lord George’s turn to look foolish.

When Lord Glasgow was in the betting mood there was no holding him,. If anvbne advised him to put £IOO on a horse ho was ns likely as not to add two cyphers to the sum without a moment’s hesitation,, as when lie backed Dare Devil for £50,000, although he had a colt much superior in his own stable. And no one could tell whether he had lost! or. won a, fortune. He would hand over n cheque for £IOO.OOO with the same smile as he would receive one. When George Payne came of age he inherited a magnificent estate •with- a rent, roll of . - A>oo a year, an addition to £300,000 in cash, the accumulation of a long minority; and vet before he died he had squandered this and two succeeding fortunes on the turf and at the card table.

He was still a year short of his majority when he lost £33,000 in the St. Leger of 1824, and when a friend ventured to condole him all the answer lie got was: “it’s a pleasure to lose it, by Jove!” Many a time he has failed by a hair's breadth to pull off an enormous stake, as when Savernake, on whom ho stood to win £60,000, lost the Derby, and when playing cards with Lord Albert Denison (who was to be married the next day) lie rose a winner of £30,000.

GAMBLED TO DEATH. Among all these plungers of the past not one was more prodigal and ill-fated than the- last Marquess of Hastings, a man whose meteoric career was as splendid as it was brief, and whose pluck was equal to his recklessness. Seldom, if ever, has a more reckless backer appeared on any racecourse; be snapped up bets as fast as they were offered and to any amount—the more and the bigger the more ho liked them. For a time his lordship’s luck was a thing to marvel at. He won £75,000 over Lecturer’s victory in the Gesarewitch; in 1887 lie won £30,000 in stakes alone; but when at last the tide of fortune began to set against him his ruin was as swift as it was pitiless. In Hermit’s last gallant stride in the historic Derby of 1867 the Marquess lost £IOO,OOO. Not content with flinging away his fortune in this manner on the turf, he ricked it with equal recklessness at the card table. The climax came a few months later when Ins filly Elizabeth, on whom lie ba‘d staked ' his last sovereign—and more—failed lamentably in the Middle Park Plate. After selling his last acre and his last piece of jewellery lie was still £40,000 short of .meeting his debts of honor. Ruin lie could have borne, but the disgrace broke his heart completely, and within a year “Harry Hastings"' was dead, at the early age of 26; leaving neither heir to bear his name nor the smallest vestige of his fortune, but leaving the memory of a true sportsman and a perfect gentleman, who was no man’s enemy but his own.

£3OO,OOO—THEN' NOTH!XG. Among these splendid prodigals of the past we see the Earl of Barrymore squandering bis fortune of £300,000 in Jour years of mad gambling, and dying penniless at the age of 24. Sir Richard Gargrave, dissipating one of the finest estates in Yorkshire and ending liis days as ostler in a London inn; arid John~Gul]y, ex-butcher and prizefighter, winning £60,000 on one Derby and £40,000 on a St. Leger—piling up his lucky gold until lie was a man of great riches, with a seat in Parliament.

We see Mr. Merry, the Scottish iron-master, pocketing£6o,ooo in bets in a single year and staking millions before be crowned his brilliant career by winning the Derby, the Oaks and St. Leger in 1873; and Lord George Bcntinek making £IOO,OOO by a single year’s betting, before lie retired from

the turf in disgust that the “Blue Itiband” always eluded him—only to find that among the horses he had soli “for a song” was the winner of the very next Derby!

LUCKY NINEPENCE. A remarkable story is told of how five employees of a Maryborough drapery store, including a young -boy and a .girl, came to purchase a ticket in a Queensland consultation 'which won the first prize of £SOOO A little girl in the office staff announced gleefully to members ol the staff recently that she had just found threepence and sixpence outside the shop of a Chinese. The manager of tho firm, who overheard the conversation, suggested that it was a good tip to buy a consultation ticket. He urged that the lucky ninepence he made the nucleus of a fund to purchase the ticket.

A boy aged 15, who was wrapping advertisement folders, volunteered a further 9d, and two others eagerly subscribed a shilling each. The manager supplied the balance of the money necessary to purchase.tho ticket, and it was agreed that in the event of winning a prize all should receive an equal amount. “What will we call it?” asked the typiste. “Call it anything, but get it now,” replied the manager. “Right,” chimed in tho office hov, “call it the ‘Get it Now Syndicate.’ ” Last week the local manager of tho consultation informed the syndicate that it had Avon first prize of £SOOO.

For twenty minutes work Avas suspended Avhile the manager and staff -celebrated their luck.

NOTES AND NEWS. Vivo (Polydamon—Melodise) Avas regarded as a sprinter when trained at Gisborne, but she is noAV staying better. She Avas third in the Atiawa Hack Cnp on the opening day at New Plymouth and Avon over a mile and half a furlong on the second day. Ashley Reed is riding in great •form over the other side. He Avon tho Ballarat Cup- recently on Spearer and added a double to his tally at Moonee Valley on Adjong and Babbler (remarks a Melbourne Avriter). Reed comes from a family of jockeys. George Reed, his father, Avas a rider in New Zealand and afterwards a trainer. Hoy, his brother, is a leading horseman in the Dominion, and Con, Avho was killed in an accident some time ago, Avas a splendid horseman. Ashley headed the aviiining jockeys’ list in New Zealand one season and was runner-up on four occasions. He has won hundreds or races, including ail the more important events in the Dominion, among them being the Wellington Cup on Bee and Bunting, the NeAV Zealand Cup on Menelaus, the AA r ondale Cup on Highland, the Hawke’s Bay Cup on Lady Motoa, the ManaAvatu Cup on Kilraiu and Waipaku, the Ormond Gold Cup on The Hawk,, the Ha wke’s Bay Stakes on Sasanoff, and the Canterbury Cup on Mascot. He also Avon the Chelmsford Stakes at Randwick on Heroic. Reed is a natural • lightweight, and is a gentlemans chap, whose behaviour on and oft the racecourse is beyond reproach.