Bill Marshall the trainer of Raffingora and My Swanee

Bill Marshall the trainer of Raffingora and My Swanee died in 2005 and this interesting article appeared in the Telegraph obituaries at the time of his death in Nov 2005...

Bill Marshall, who has died in Barbados aged 87, flew Spitfires and Hurricanes in the Second World War and later became a well-known racehorse trainer - he holds the record as the only person to have saddled winners from stables on four continents.

As a fighter pilot in July 1944, Marshall dived his Spitfire on a V1 flying bomb in the skies above Kent. He was about to back off to give himself shooting space when the V1's engine cut out over the town of Lydd. Realising that, unless he took immediate action, the bomb would fall directly on to the village, he opened fire from close range and destroyed it.

The blast blew a large hole in the Spitfire's radiator, and Marshall was fortunate to get back to his base at West Malling in one piece. Four days later, he received a message from Gordon Paine, Lydd's mayor, congratulating him on his bravery and expressing gratitude from the population of the town, which had suffered nothing worse than a few broken windows.

William Cyril Marshall was born in Newcastle upon Tyne on August 14 1918. Three months later, his family moved to a farm near Chichester, where he developed his love of horses. His father, Cyril, who had been invalided out of the Navy in 1918 after almost choking to death from fumes when the submarine he commanded was hit by a depth charge, bred shire horses and was keen on hunting.

By the time he was 12 Marshall was obsessed with horses and, as an amateur, rode his first winner in a Sussex point-to-point; for the son of a retired naval officer, however, to become a professional jockey was out of the question. Bill's great-grandfather, grandfather and father had all attended Rugby, and he was due to follow in their

The youngster cycled from Chichester to Portsmouth and joined a tramp steamer bound for Australia, a country he had read much about and where he was determined to earn his fortune. During the journey, the ship put into Hamburg. There Bill enjoyed a few drinks before paying his first visit to a brothel. Marshall recounted in his later years how an able seaman had that night given him the best bit of advice he had ever received: always to visit the whorehouse before the pub, not the other way round.

Having reached Australia, he found a job as a jockey, but soon turned his hand to training and established a travelling stable, taking his horses to "bush" race meetings the length and breadth of the country. Then, aged 17, he moved to South Africa, where he found a job in a gold mine and accumulated sufficient funds to set up a successful training yard near Johannesburg. It is likely that Marshall would never have left South Africa had it not been for the outbreak of the Second World War.


A staunch patriot, he was determined to join the RAF. He learned to fly, bought a Tiger Moth and, in September 1939, flew it back to Britain - a journey that was fraught with danger. Not only was his flimsy aircraft susceptible to bad weather, but he also had to exercise extreme caution when deciding in which countries he could safely re-fuel.

Marshall landed in England eight days later, after touching down in eight countries, none of which was sympathetic to the Germans. He joined the RAF and became a fighter pilot, first serving with No 91 Squadron in the Battle of Britain and later with No 253 Squadron in North Africa.

He principally flew Spitfires and Hurricanes and was shot down twice. His DFC citation credited Flight Lieutenant Marshall with having destroyed two enemy aircraft, seven flying bombs and sharing in the destruction of one midget submarine. It commended his "fine leadership, outstanding skill, courage, and fine fighting spirit".

But it was a non-combat flying incident that propelled Marshall into the newspaper headlines in 1943. Flying back from a mission over France, he realised that he was going to be very late for a date in Buckinghamshire. He was supposed to land at Tangmere, in Sussex, but diverted to Marlow, where his date awaited him in the Compleat Angler Inn.

His daredevil act of flying his Spitfire under a bridge and performing a roll impressed his girlfriend, but not an air commodore who happened to be in the bar. A report was filed, but Marshall escaped a court martial because it was wartime.

He then settled back in England, where he became one of the leading racehorse trainers between the 1950s and 1970s. His first yard was at Chichester and later he trained in Hampshire, Gloucestershire, Wiltshire and Newmarket.

The first of his winners came with Danger Light at Windsor in 1951. At first, he concentrated on National Hunt horses, sending out the remarkable Hindhead (who went on winning until the age of 15) to score 23 victories. But it was as a Flat trainer that he would make his name.

The two horses for which he will be best remembered in Britain were both greys, the multiple-winners My Swanee and Raffingora. The former became a public favourite by winning six handicaps under ever-increasing burdens in 1969; but My Swanee's achievements were overshadowed by those of Raffingora.

That giant sprinter, which had been bought cheaply by Marshall, won 17 of his 28 outings in two seasons. In 1970 he scorched home in several of the premier races, but his most memorable victory came in the Cherkley Sprint Handicap at Epsom on Derby Day.

Carrying 10 stone and ridden by Lester Piggott, a lifelong friend of Marshall, Raffingora won by a short head in a then world record (electrically timed) for five furlongs of 53.89 seconds. In 1972 the trainer enjoyed his best season for winners with 63 successes.

This was remarkable because, in June of that year, Marshall and his wife, Pamela, had had a narrow escape from death when the light aircraft in which they, the racehorse-owner John Howard, and the jockey Joe Mercer were travelling to Belgium crashed after take-off from Newbury racecourse.

The pilot was killed instantly, but all the passengers survived, although the Marshalls were seriously injured.

In 1981 they moved to Barbados, where they made a considerable impact on the island's racing industry. While Pamela, as a director of the island's Turf Club, sought and found new sponsors for races at the colourful Garrison Savannah racecourse, her husband launched his new training career.

During the next 13 years he saddled seven winners of the Sandy Lane (formerly Cockspur) Barbados Gold Cup, the most prestigious race in the Caribbean, and nine Barbados Derby winners.

He was champion trainer no fewer than 11 times and was awarded the Silver Crown of Merit for his services to Barbados racing in 2003, the year in which his biography, You Win Some, You Lose Some (co-written by Julian Armfield and Fred Langan) was published.

Among the many owners for whom he trained in Barbados were Sir Martyn and Sally Arbib; Derrick and Gay Smith; Vere Davis; Gill Wilson; and the late Paul Locke. A statue of Sally Arbib's Blast of Storm, the Gold Cup hero of 2000, 2001 and 2002, was unveiled at Garrison Savannah by Barbados's Prime Minister, Owen Arthur, in March 2003.

Up until his death on Monday, Marshall rose at 3.15 am six days a week to supervise his horses' training. At lunch time he could be found in the bar of the Barbados Yacht Club, where he would entertain friends and visitors with a rich tapestry of tales from his life in racing. Most Sundays, he lunched at Sandy Lane where he persuaded the restaurant manager to include his beloved jellied eels on the menu.

Bill Marshall is survived by his wife and their daughter, and by a daughter and five sons (three of them named Tom, Dick and Harry) of his first two marriages.



Another great grey for Bill Marshall - My Swanee

From Racehorses of 1969

My Swanee

MY SWANEE 6 gr.h. Petition 130-Grey Rhythm 99 (Grey Sovereign 128 §) 122

[1967 81g5 8.7d* 8g* 8f 8.5fg* 8g2 8d* 8g3 9g 1968 12d* 10g* 10fg 10s3 1216 120 12g 8g* 8.3g3 1969 10.2s* 12g2 10d2 10v* 8v* 12g2 812 81* 10.5f* 8s3 8f4 8g5 8f3 8fg3 10f3]

Between them the Bill Marshall trained pair My Swanee and Raffingora must have caused the Jockey Club handicappers many sleepless nights in 1969. The two greys won a total of fourteen races, the majority of them under 9-7 or more, and it must have been a daunting task trying to keep up with them. Both were kept very busy, and My Swanee was on the go from March to September, running on courses as diverse as Chepstow and York, and on going of practically every description. It made no difference to him though, and his record of six wins—one each at Doncaster, Chepstow, Newbury and Sandown, and two at York—reflects great credit on all those concerned with him.

Steady improvement was the keynote of My Swanee's success in 1969. Starting off in modest company, he gradually progressed to take on the very best, and though he wasn't up to beating the top horses, his performances in the Magnet Cup and the Rose of York Handicap stamped him as an outstanding handicapper. Giving upwards of 22lb to such useful animals as Yorkshireman, Sovereign Ruler and Pally's Double, My Swanee won the Magnet Cup easing up by three lengths in a very fast tine. On the bridle most of the way, he was asked to take the lead in the last furlong and when given his head quickly put paid to the opposition.

Five weeks later My Swanee returned to the Knavesmire for the Rose of York Handicap — one of the hottest mile handicaps of the year. His prospects looked far from bright when he turned for home in ninth place, a good way behind the leaders. But the picture soon changed. Halfway up the straight My Swanee coasted up to the leaders, sailed into the lead in the last furlong, and in a tremendous race to the line he held on with great courage to win by a head from Fire King, who was receiving 20 lb, with such as Emerilo, Sovereign Set, Paddy Me and Prince de Galles further behind. Lester Piggott, who was associated with My Swanee in so many of his races, is reported to have said that he had never ridden a gamer, more determined horse in all his life. Certainly if there was one racing in 1969 we never saw it. My Swanee couldn't beat the handicapper every time though, and between the Magnet Cup and the Rose of York Handicap he finished third in the W. D. & H. O, Wills Silver Goblets at Ayr and fourth in the William Hill Gold Cup at Redcar.

Many of his admirers were keen to see how he fared against the top horses, and My Swanee’s clash with Jimmy Reppin, Habitat and Lucyrowe in the Wills Mile at Goodwood provided one of the most interesting races of the year. Meeting all except Lucyrowe on terms better than weight-for-age, My Swanee led for over six furlongs, but when Jimmy Reppin went past he didn't last long and at the finish My Swanee was about five lengths behind Habitat in fifth place. This was to have been his last race before retiring to stud, but he was brought out twice more. Giving weight all round in the Doncaster Handicap, My Swanee was beaten a length and a half by Mark Royal and Remraf, and in a minor race at Goodwood Jimmy Reppin beat him very easily by four lengths. Midnight Marauder separated the pair, beating My Swanee by a neck.


A tough and wonderfully consistent racehorse, My Swanee has now retired, and is to stand at the Waterloo House Stud, Mallow, Co. Cork, at a fee of £400 or £500 no foal/no fee. Altogether he won seventeen races on the flat worth over £16,000, and just to show his versatility he also won over hurdles and finished second to King Cutler in a division of the Gloucestershire Hurdle. He possessed many of the qualities that breeders should be looking for, including soundness, good looks, a fine turn of foot, and, above all, an exceptional will to win. My Swanee stayed a mile and a half, but his best form was shown at shorter distances. He acted on any going. Trained by W. C. Marshall.

It will be a long time before we see his like again on the racecourse

From Racehorses of 1971

The Grey Sprinter Raffingora 

RAFFINGORA 5 gr.h. Grey Sovereign 128 §--Cameo 114 (Como 120) 130 [1968 5g* 5g4 5s6 6f2 610e 5fg4 5.7s 5v 5d 1969 6fg3 5f* 6d* Mg* 6fg3 5•9s* 5g4 5.9f2 5f5 5g2 5g5 5g* 5.6fg 51. 1970 5g3 5g5 5g3 5f* 5f* 5f* 5h 5fg* 5g* 5c1* 5v3 5fg* 5f* 5g3]

Raffingora's brilliant achievements over the past two seasons earned him a place among the immortals of the Turf. His tremendous record in that time — seventeen wins from twenty eight starts — is all the more impressive when one considers that the majority of his races were in handicaps in which he nearly always had 10-0 or more to carry. To the amazement of almost everyone, he kept on winning in the face of stiffer and stiffer treatment from the handicappers. Excepting the 1969 Portland Handicap, in which Raffingora had to concede 9lb to Mountain Call, one has to go back to June 1969 to find the last occasion on which the big grey was beaten in a handicap. The Portland was also the only occasion after May 1969 on which Raffingora ran when handicapped to carry less than 10-0.

In 1970 Raffingora's achievements were remarkable. He won more races than any other horse in training and put up the most spectacular handicap performance of the season when winning the Cherkley Sprint at Epsom, where he recorded the fastest five furlongs ever electrically timed. He also won two of the most important weight-for-age sprints of the season, the Temple Stakes at Sandown and the King George Stakes at Goodwood. It is not hard to see why he ranks as one of the most popular horses ever to race in this country.

By the time the Cherkley Sprint Handicap was run at the Epsom Derby meeting, Raffingora had already fulfilled the winter prediction of his trainer that he would be a better horse at five years than he had been at four. Wins in handicaps at Epsom in April and York in May were followed by a victory in the Temple Stakes. In this race Raffingora decisively turned the tables on The Brianstan who had finished in front of him in the Palace House Stakes at Newmarket a month earlier. Here was a clear indication that Raffingora was better than ever and a real prospect for the sprint championship. Had the handicapper had the result of the Temple Stakes to hand when framing the weights for the Cherkley Sprint he would probably have given Raffingora a little more to do. Not that Raffingora had an easy task! The Brianstan, Tribal Chief and Decoy Boy were the best of the recognised sprinting three-year-olds at the time and all three took the field. The older horses were Mount Melody, Pals Passage, Duty Sheet, Trillium, Constans and Salan, and all received between 16 lb and 28 lb from Raffingora.

What a race the Cherkley Sprint turned out to be! Raffingora got some way behind in the first half of the race and as Duty Sheet led clear into the final furlong it looked impossible for her to be caught. Meanwhile Raffingora, after having been in an apparently hopeless position at least six lengths behind the leader two furlongs out, was making up ground on the outside.
With Piggott riding at his strongest and Raffingora responding magnificently, the gap was cut to three lengths with two hundred yards to go, two lengths with a hundred yards to go and about a length with fifty yards to go. At the post there was precious little in it, though few shared Piggott's opinion that Raffingora had got up. The photograph showed a short head in his favour. The electrically recorded time for Raffingora was 53.89 seconds, over a fifth of a second outside the world record time for five furlongs accredited to Indigenous when he carried 9-5 to victory in the Tadworth Handicap at the Derby meeting in 1960. The 53.60 seconds returned for Indigenous was hand timed. As a general rule, one can expect an electrically recorded time to be around half a second longer than a time taken by hand. Our two representatives clocked Raffingora at 53.38 seconds and 53.35 seconds. Back in 1960, we timed Indigenous at 53.59 seconds, so we can certainly say that Raffingora put up the fastest time for five furlongs that we have ever taken.

Raffingora was on the crest of a wave and he started a warm favourite for the King's Stand Stakes at Royal Ascot. Once again he got behind in the early stages, but this time it was not Duty Sheet that he had to catch but Amber Rama, Huntercombe and Balidar. He never looked like getting to the fighting line and at the finish was seventh, nine lengths behind the winner, Amber Rama. Later events showed that Raffingora was not up to beating Amber Rama, Huntercombe and Balidar, but he certainly ran below his best in the King's Stand Stakes, in which Pisces, Prince Tenderfoot and Cinerama Two also beat him home.

On his next outing, at Haydock in July, Raffingora gained a narrow victory over War Ace in the Great Central Handicap, in the process giving useful sprint handicappers such as Crescent Dart, Blatanro, and Slitheroe beatings of between three and four stones! The sight of Raffingora's name among the entries for a sprint handicap must have been an anathema to the Jockey Club handicappers. They handicapped him up to the hilt after each victory but still he kept on winning. In the John Banks Gold Cup at Lanark later in July the handicapper set Raffingora to carry the burden of 10-8. The next horse down the weights was the useful and consistent Sweet Thanks, who was set to receive no less than 32 lb. Eight tough races in under four months would have knocked the stuffing out of a lot of horses but Raffingora turned out at Lanark looking as fresh as paint and bigger than ever. With Piggott riding Balidar in France, stable-apprentice Jackson was given the mount on Raffingora. After bouncing Raffingora smartly out of the gate he kept him up with the leaders all the way. Two furlongs out Raffingora was a definite leader and he kept on gamely in the final furlong to hold off the three-year-old Swinging Again by half a length.

One had almost come to expect the impossible from Raffingora by this time, but his performance in his next race, the King George Stakes at Goodwood, left even his most ardent admirers speechless. Set the apparently impossible task of giving 15 lb more than weight for age to those very smart three-year-olds The Brianstan and Realm, Raffingora not only won but won easily! He was moving particularly well at halfway, where he was tucked in behind Realm, The Brianstan and the only other runner, Pisces.
He did not challenge until well inside the final furlong where Piggott let out a little rein and Raffingora burst past The Brianstan in a few strides. On paper this was not only the finest performance of Raffingora's career, but also the best performance by any sprinter in this country for many years. The Brianstan received an 18 lb beating, Realm a 19 lb beating and the filly Pisces a 29 lb beating. We say on paper because we believe that Raffingora's chance was helped by the way in which the race was run. After racing each other hell for leather from the start, The Brianstan and Realm were 'pumped out' as they entered the final furlong and had nothing left to resist Raffingora in the closing stages. This is not to detract in any way from the magnificence of Raffingora's victory. It was, for us, one of the highlights of the season.

The going at Goodwood had been on the easy side and Raffingora's connections decided to let him take his chance in the Nunthorpe Stakes at York, in spite of the heavy ground. All Raffingora's best performances before Goodwood had been on a sound surface, although he had 'won on soft. Evidently fears were entertained about the ability of Raffingora's main rival, Huntercombe, to handle the ground for Raffingora started favourite. He was clearly ill at ease from the start and was beaten at halfway. Huntercombe and The Brianstan had a brief set-to inside the final furlong before Huntercombe got on top to win by a length. Raffingora, who was eased in the closing stages, finished four lengths further behind, last of the three runners.

Raffingora was given one more chance to prove himself champion sprinter. His supporters had explained, at least to their own satisfaction, Raffingora's defeats in the King's Stand Stakes and the Nunthorpe Stakes. It was announced that Raffingora would take on Huntercombe and Balidar in the Prix de l'Abbaye de Longchamp October. But Raffingora wasn't allowed to rest in the meantime. He picked up minor events at Chepstow and Beverley, and in neither did he have to exert himself overmuch. So to Longchamp... The Prix de l'Abbaye was Raffingora's fourteenth race of the season. Balidar and Huntercombe had each had only half that number. Raffingora looked as well as ever; he had the most favoured starting position; the ground was good. There could be no excuses this time. Piggott chose to ride Balidar and Lindley took the mount on Raffingora. The French betting public made Balidar favourite, fractionally in front of Huntercombe. Apparently Raffingora's exploits in England were not familiar to them and he stood at around 11/1 in the betting until a few minutes before the start. Raffingora broke well from the stalls and was soon in the lead but Balidar kept close company on the outside. Raffingora could hang on to the lead only for three furlongs and he was two and a half lengths behind Balidar and Huntercombe at the line. A further two lengths behind came The Brianstan. Here was conclusive evidence that Raffingora was not up to beating Balidar and Huntercombe on level terms. And through these colts it could be reasoned that Amber Rama was his superior too.

Where then does Raffingora rank among the sprinters of our experience? Certainly there have been better ones, though it should be said that Raffingora was good enough to have been champion sprinter in an average year, but he was racing in a year when there were three outstanding sprinters on the scene. If Raffingora wasn't quite the best sprinter around in 1970, who can deny that he was one of the toughest to race here for many years ? He ran fourteen times in all, the same number as in 1969, on courses as far apart as Lanark and Longchamp, and how well he stood up to his racing. Bill Marshall produced him looking a picture every time he ran and the exacting programme set for him never sapped his enthusiasm for the game.

If ever a horse was built to 'carry big weights, it was Raffingora. A strong, lengthy, deep-bodied individual of immense size and power, Raffingora lacks the quality one hopes to see in a top-class performer, but he possesses enough sterling characteristics to make him a good stallion prospect. Tough and genuine, with a cast-iron constitution, Raffingora showed as a four-year-old that he stayed six furlongs, though he raced exclusively at five in 1970. Raffingora's sire, Grey Sovereign, has sired the winners of over 800 races in England and abroad. His winners include Zeddaan, Don II, Young Emperor, Sovereign Path, Matatina, La Tendresse, Merry Madcap, Sovereign Lord, Gustav, Lanark and Silver King. Not a bad haul by any standards! Raffingora's dam, Cameo, was a very useful five-furlong sprinter. To Sing Sing she produced Reprise, a useful winner at two years in 1966, and Solo Performance, winner of two of her three races in 1970. Raffingora has been partially syndicated at £5,000 a share, his owner retaining the right to hold up to twenty-five of the forty shares. Raffingora will stand at the Lucknam Park Stud, Chippenham, Wiltshire, in 1971. It will be a long time before we see his like again on the racecourse. Trained by W. C. Marshall.

Trodmore Hunt Races

SIMPLE IN CONCEPTION AND BRILLIANT IN EXECUTION IT WAS

A Perfect Race Swindle

Scotland Yard’s Fraud Squad has never been more baffled than they were by the strange case of the Trodmore Turf Hunt. This horse racing swindle robbed bookmakers of thousands of pounds in the summer of 1898. Behind it was a smooth tongued swindler who called himself Mr. Martin. Like so many would be tricksters of the Turf, Mr. Martin pondered the Intriguing question: How can I back a horse and be absolutely certain that it will win? Dope? Bribery? Ringing? He scorned all these well tried schemes. They entailed too many risks... too much reliance on accomplices... Martin wanted a straightforward scheme where success or failure depended on one central figure - himself. An essential feature of the scheme must be that it left no means of tracing the culprit.

The story of Trodmore was covered in Sports Illustrated in May 1973, read on...

One of the more popular British tribal rites is the celebration of the annual Bank Holiday on the first Monday in August. The day has long featured a gay mass exodus to the seaside, the countryside and the nation's playing fields, sporting arenas and amusement parks, not to mention the neighbourhood pubs. This preoccupation with revelry provides an ideal background for a shady enterprise, and thus it was that the Trodmore Hoax came into full larcenous bloom in London on the Bank Holiday morning of Monday, Aug. 1, 1898.

As usual, the diversions included special race meetings throughout Great Britain, many of them held at small tracks scattered across the countryside. None of these events was so obscure as to be beneath the dignity of London's off-track bookmakers, particularly if a potentially profitable wager appeared. London's bookies were, and are, famed as an obliging breed in this regard. On this festive morning they were up bright and early working the streets, corner shops and pubs, on the usual lookout for a good thing. Along with the routine heavy play on the established tracks, they observed some interest in an obscure meeting in the south-western county of Cornwall called Trodmore. The full Trodmore program was carried on the racing pages of that morning's edition of the widely read London journal Sportsman. The adventurous were making bets on a 3-year-old named Reaper, scheduled to run in the fourth race of a six-race card and quoted at approximate starting odds of 6 to 1.

The bookies were not unduly curious about this flurry of interest in a little-known horse since most of the wagers were placed in the pubs that opened at 10 a.m., where clients were notoriously inclined to spells of poor judgment after a pint or two. Also, operating individually, as they did throughout the sprawling precincts of London and its suburbs, the bookies were not aware of the full extent of the support for the horse. So when the report came that Reaper had won, the bookies were in trouble.

It wasn't that Reaper was really a good horse. Or even a bad horse. The fact was that he was no horse at all. Not only that, there was no fourth race at Trodmore, there was no race meeting at Trodmore, there was, indeed, no such place as Trodmore. These were the basic ingredients of the holiday caper spawned by an organization subsequently vaguely known, and in some quarters greatly admired, as the Trodmore Syndicate. The curious course of this affair is traced in the files of Sportsman and the rival Sporting Life, two London journals at the time engaged in a fierce battle for street sales. It was the reports exclusively in Sportsman that had provided initial information on the phantom meeting.

Although it had been several weeks in the making, the gambit emerged as a full-fledged swindle on the August Bank Holiday morning when the final details of the Trodmore meeting appeared in the Sportsman. The report listed the entries, jockeys, owners, post times, distances, purses, approximate odds and all other pertinent information. In a modest way this was a clear scoop over Sporting Life, which carried not a word of information on the event.

Now a highly reputable and widely read newspaper such as the Sportsman does not treat the publication of such information lightly, and certainly not without having first been satisfied as to its authenticity. In the judgment of the editors, sufficient assurance had been provided by an impressive and highly official-looking mass of correspondence that had begun arriving several weeks before. The first advice concerning the Trodmore meeting had been received in the mails in late July in a letter from the Fox and Hounds Hotel, Trodmore. Preliminary details appeared under the tastefully engraved letterhead of the "Trodmore Hunt Club."

Enclosed in this first missive were all the data required for the official posting of the event: rules, purses, the names of patrons, stewards, sponsors and officials. It was respectfully noted that the Fox and Hounds was Race Headquarters, and that further information would be forthcoming from the Clerk of the Course at that address.

Further information was subsequently received as promised, with letters noting the progress of preparations and listing early entries. The Clerk of the Course also advised the Sportsman that the patrons would be most grateful if word of their modest charitable project could be passed along to the readers. Pleased to receive this information on an event in the west counties, the editors were happy to oblige through the paper's regular race-news columns, but the editors said that unfortunately they would not be able to staff the meeting itself: their west counties correspondent would be busy at a larger event at Newton Abbot. However, if the patrons or the stewards could recommend a reliable person to wire in the results....

Enter Mr. Martin, the gentleman from St. Ives. A few days later a letter bearing his signature appeared in the Sportsman offices in an envelope with a Trodmore postmark. Mr. Martin wrote that he had been informed by the Race Committee of the problem regarding coverage of the Trodmore meeting and said that he would be pleased to offer his services. Later, over the phone, an agreement was reached whereby Mr. Martin would cover the event for the Sportsman at the standard fee of one guinea, full results to be wired at the conclusion of the meeting. At his suggestion, applauded by the Sportsman editors, it was further agreed that the Trodmore results should be exclusive to that paper.

Everything was in great shape as Bank Holiday Monday morning dawned, and a swarm of carefully briefed men from the aforementioned Trodmore Syndicate prepared to make the rounds. Each carried a copy of the Sportsman, turned to the racing section that carried the details of that day's Trodmore program. The tactic was the soft sell and the fast move... concentrate on the pubs, always heavily worked on days like this; have a pint; flash the Sportsman; suggest a fancy for Reaper in the fourth at Trodmore. If faced with any questions or reluctance, back off. Pay cash, and arrange to collect the next day. The agents moved swiftly from pub to pub, and bets were laid and accepted without trouble. Business was brisk right up to the scheduled 1:30 p.m. first post time at the first meeting of the Trodmore Hunt Club in Cornwall.

In what Mr. Martin enthusiastically described as a highly successful and exciting inaugural meeting, the following winners were recorded, along with the official closing odds: First race: Jim, 5 to 4; second race: Rosy, 5 to 1; third race: Spur, 2 to 1; fifth race: Curfew, 6 to 4; sixth race: Fairy Bells, 7 to 4. And, oh yes—fourth race: Reaper, 5 to 1. These results appeared in the Tuesday edition of the Sportsman, which was on the street at 7 a.m. The rival Sporting Life was out shortly after, but with no report from Trodmore. Again clutching copies of their favourite newspaper, the Reaper fanciers swarmed back across London, this time to collect.

At first there were only the normal grumblings as bookies paid off, willing to accept the official results as published in the Sportsman. Then, with just a small portion of the take in the till, there was trouble. It began with a bookie over in Chelsea who balked at paying because the results were not carried in Sporting Life. The fellow said he wasn't quarrelling over the official nature of the lone report, but wanted confirmation of the odds, which just might have been published in error. The agent involved didn't press the matter. He retired quietly, as did his mates across London as word of the challenge sped along the bookies' grapevine. With the enterprise under dangerous, if unsuspecting, scrutiny, the jig was up. Or was it?

Not at official Race Headquarters at the Fox and Hounds, Trodmore, it wasn't. Word from there or thereabouts went out to lie low until Wednesday. And by late Tuesday afternoon the editorial offices of Sporting Life were bombarded with calls from indignant readers demanding to know why they had not carried the Trodmore results. The editors checked, saw that the Sportsman had carried the results, and apologized for their delinquency. One of the late callers was a Mr. Martin, who noted the general indignation and said that he would be pleased to help out by sending the full results, as he had been on hand at the Trodmore meeting in an official capacity. The offer was accepted. It was agreed that Mr. Martin would wire his story later that evening, in time to placate readers of the early Wednesday edition. But then, to make things a little easier for a work shift that was coming straight off a long day's celebrations, it was decided that to save time the Trodmore results would be copied direct from the Sportsman.

The Syndicate men were there waiting when the first edition of Sporting Life appeared, all set to toddle off with the confirmation needed to collect the rest of the bet money. The Trodmore results were there all right, but there was one small problem. The closing price on Reaper, the winner in the fourth, was quoted not at 5 to 1 as in the Sportsman but 5 to 2—the result of a printer's holiday hangover error. The swindle was now in real trouble, and discretion clearly being the better part of valour, the frustrated bettors swiftly and quietly disappeared. It was just as well. The bookies who had paid off began screaming for information on the Trodmore Race Meeting. They were joined by interested fellow professionals, then by the usual outraged public. Who knew anyone connected with the Trodmore Races? Who had witnessed the event? Where, in fact, was Trodmore? Who knew anything about Reaper? Who knew anything about anything?

Swamped with angry calls the two highly embarrassed newspapers tried to get the facts. A check with the post office and telegraph services revealed that despite the Trodmore postmarks on all that official correspondence from the Fox and Hounds Hotel, there was no such town as Trodmore. Not in the county of Cornwall, nor anywhere else in Britain. That information wiped out the Fox and Hounds, the Trodmore track and all the distinguished local citizens who served as patrons, sponsors and stewards. Not to mention Reaper, no matter what the closing price. The few things certain were that some £1,000’s of real money had changed hands, and that there had been a gentleman who went by the name of Mr. Martin—although where he went nobody would ever know. He and the rest of the Trodmore Syndicate simply faded into the British countryside, leaving a baffled racing fraternity wiser by this much: never bet on a horse named Reaper in the fourth unless you have personally checked his teeth.

Some three weeks after the event The Sportsman Newspaper published the following statement

Kettle Switched on to Training

Former Jockey Michael Kettle, by Robert Philip - From the Telegraph dated 10th December 2000...

Michael Kettle

It is shortly after what is laughingly termed sunrise on a bleak midwinter's morning in the sodden English countryside; the torrential rain has blessedly - and fleetingly - been switched off at the celestial stopcock but the howling, bone-chilling wind whips across Oxfordshire straight from Siberia. The ultimate dream may be Epsom, Royal Ascot or Glorious Goodwood on a balmy summer's afternoon but, hey, that is a fantasy to be savoured later tonight in front of an open fire with a warming glass of malt to hand. For the moment, it is up here on the inhospitable Blewbury Hills that trainer Michael Kettle must find his thrills.

The Classics are an eternity away but the Flat racing season, like brutal storms, continues unabated on the artificial tracks of less glamorous outposts such as Southwell, Lingfield and Wolverhampton this week and, whatever the weather, there are equine athletes to be trained and cared for at Kettle's Whiteshoot Stables. After leading the yard's string up the all-weather gallop, Kettle warms his raw hands on the coffee percolator in the middle of the kitchen table and attempts to explain why a lad brought up on the urban streets of Woolwich in south-east London, where his only four-legged friend was the rag and bone man's nag, has devoted his adult life to the turf. "From the day and hour I started as an apprentice jockey, I wanted to be a trainer," he says. "And I love it just as much as I thought I would, I really do. As a kid I was fascinated by horses, although I hated racing and would never, ever watch it on telly, but I grew up - if you can call the tiny height I am `growing up' - with Roy Rogers and Trigger, the Lone Ranger and Silver, Hopalong Cassidy and Topper. So it was a wee boy's hero-worship of cowboys that sparked my captivation and that feeling never left me even as I grew older. Whenever I went up to London I'd go to Horse Guards' Parade just to stroke the horses. It's seems stupid now, but I just wanted to be near them."

Kettle, though, went to work at the Savoy Hotel where he became head page, a chattering escort to the likes of Charlie Chaplin, Joan Crawford and the Beatles as they were shown to their rooms. "Everyone I met said, `you ought to be a jockey' and I'd say, `nah'. Even Joan Crawford turned to me in the lift one day and said, `you should become a jock, Michael'. But my brother had become an apprentice earning 10 bob a week whereas I was earning a fiver which I regularly doubled and sometimes trebled in tips. I loved the buzz of the Savoy; there was a real sense of excitement in the air whenever a big Hollywood star arrived. It was great fun because you got to meet all the stars one-to-one and I was never slow at talking. But because I was so small and so light - about 4st 12lb, I suppose - everyone thought I should be a jockey, even though I reckoned it was too hazardous. I was well thought of in the Savoy and knew I had a smashing career ahead of me. I also knew full well that only one out of about 1,000 apprentices ever make it to the top."

And it is at the Savoy where Kettle would have remained had he not accompanied a couple he had never seen before up in the lift one fateful day in 1965. `You should be a jockey,' says the woman. `Oh, no, my brother David's a jockey and I don't fancy the life,' says I. `Who does he work for?' asks the man. `Staff Ingham at Epsom,' replies me. `That's funny,' says the man, `I am Staff Ingham.' Before I'd got home that night, Staff had rung my father asking him to try to persuade me. But I really wasn't interested - after all, I was 15 at the time and had never even sat on a horse, let alone raced one."

Month after month, Ingham called the Kettle household to repeat the same plea and, finally, the young Michael relented. "But I refused to sign the five-year indenture which was normal in those days. I told Staff I'd give it a try but if I didn't like it I wanted to be free to leave. Back then - and it seems incredible now - if you signed that contract and left, the police would come and take you back. There was nothing even your parents could do about it." Happily, Kettle loved the life from the very start, although it was a damn sight harder than carrying Mick Jagger's overnight bag up to the penthouse suite at the Savoy.

"The very first morning I was put on the back of this giant beast who'd won the Imperial Cup twice but who was now 22 years old. The head lad says to me, `I'll tell you this, son, you're going to fall straight back off again.' `That's nice,' I think. `He'll buck you off,' explains the lad, `he always does.' Five seconds later I was lying flat on my back fighting for breath. We went through that routine about five times until I finally managed to stay in the saddle. They were hard, hard days, but it was a wonderful school of learning. I knew I'd never go back to the Savoy after that although I never really felt for a long time that I had what it took. I used to watch Geoff Lewis, who was Staff's stable jockey, and thought I'd never, ever be as good as him. I wasn't a natural, so I had to work harder than anyone, and the harder I worked, the more I loved it all."

   Kettle's first ride

At the age of 18 (and still weighing under 5st), Kettle rode his first race for Ingham, finishing third on a 33-1 filly in a 28-horse field at Sandown Park on Whitbread Gold Cup day. From that humble beginning, Kettle went on to ride over 230 winners worldwide for leading trainers such as Henry Cecil, Michael Stoute and Clive Brittain, whom he served as stable jockey. "I was a good, honest pro. I was never going to be a Lester Piggott, but every trainer I ever rode for knew I'd give it my all. I could have been champion apprentice in 1969 but I missed three months of the season after smashing my legs when I went through the rails at Newmarket."

Never a star, Kettle rode all over the world - the United States, India, South Africa, and Australia - watching and learning from the leading trainers in every continent. By 1979, however, the rides were gradually drying up and Kettle had no wish to linger where he was no longer wanted. "I hung on in there as long as I could but by the age of 39 I'd become unfashionable and once you get into that mode you're in trouble because you still have to pay the mortgage." And so he took his first tentative steps into training, first as assistant to Peter Makin then for six years in Abu Dhabi for Sheikh Rashid. "He was a lovely guy and we saddled a load of winners so I could have stayed there for ever and made my fortune, but I wanted home. I know the French and the Americans will disagree, but I feel if you want to prove yourself a top trainer, you have to do it in England. So we came back [`we' including wife, Caroline] although we didn't have a yard, we didn't have an owner and we didn't have a horse. That apart, we had a brilliant set-up."

Three years on, Whiteshoot Stables has 17 paying guests and the winners are gradually mounting. "We've had seven this season which isn't too bad, but could obviously be better. We've had over 30 places, however, so I like to think that every horse that leaves here for the course is a genuine threat. I'm honest, and I reckon that's really important in this business. There isn't a single horse in this yard that can't win, or I'd tell the owners so. I rode winners as a jockey, but training a winner is the biggest thrill of all. Jockeys only get to ride the horses, whereas a trainer does everything but sleep with them - and quite often we do just that. We're on the bottom ladder but at least we're on the ladder."

Having set the alarm at 5.45 that morning, Kettle, 50, takes his final stroll round the yard some 19 hours later, before settling down in front of the fire, glass in hand, perchance to dream. "There are three yearlings out there... Nothing more than babies. But who's to know how they'll turn out? Of course, there could be a Shergar or something among them. Actually, we've got one little fella in the first stall who doesn't even have a name yet but who looks a real cracker. He's not much bigger than a pony but he could be champion sprinter in three years' time." One thing's for sure, the unnamed colt could not wish for a more caring or loving human companion as it sets off in pursuit of its own, personal dream.

Just Another Ringer - Peaceful William also known as Stellar City

Ringers & Rascals: One horse was dead and one was alive, but which was which?

Byline: David Ashforth

Perhaps Jack Morris just had time to watch Pan II win the Ascot Gold Cup before Detective Superintendent John Black arrested him. Earlier the same day, June 14, 1951, Black had driven to Kennett House at East Ilsley, near Newbury, and arrested Edward Hill. The two men were close friends, Morris was a 50-year-old former amateur jockey, who had ridden in the 1939 Grand National, while Hill was a 45-year-old jockey turned trainer. Both were gamblers and Hill admitted using Morris to place his bets. "If you have a person in the stable who can get your bet on without the bookmakers knowing," he explained, "he might return very fair odds." If you can arrange for a good horse to run in the name of a bad one, you might fare even better.

In May 1949, Hill and Morris travelled to Ireland. They visited Edward Martin Quirk's yard and bought his wife's promising two-year-old, Stellar City, for pounds 1,400. A week later, they met Edward Callaghan at the Gresham Hotel in Dublin and agreed to buy another, much less promising, two-year-old called Peaceful William for pounds 325. The journey from Ireland had a miraculous effect on the horses' identities. When they arrived at East Ilsley, Stellar City had lost both the white star on his forehead and his ability, both of which had been acquired by Peaceful William.

Early in June, Peaceful William, partnered by jump jockey Harry Sprague, was given a severe five-furlong gallop, with Flat jockeys Arthur Wragg and Ken Gethin partnering his rivals. While their mounts were each carrying about 8st 6lb, Peaceful William was burdened with 9st 12lb. Sprague, now a spritely 82, remembers it well. "I'd ridden for gambling stables all my life," he told me. "They knew I could keep my mouth shut. Morris rang to say they were thinking of running a decent two-year-old and wanted to have a gallop. At the gallops, he said, `That one's yours'. I thought, `God, that's a nice two-year-old'. I just won the gallop, by about three-quarters of a length."

There was one other matter to attend to. Hill made a mark on the noseband of a bridle and told his head lad, Lincoln Close, to take it to the saddler and have a leather disc sewn on to it. In 30 years working with horses, Close had never seen a bridle changed in that way. The disc neatly covered the white star on the face of the horse the staff knew as Peaceful William.

The stable's new star was unleashed at the humblest of levels, the five-furlong Trial Selling Plate at Carlisle on June 29, 1949. Sprague was riding at the meeting for Jack Reardon, an Epsom trainer. "Morris said to me, `I'll put you down for Peaceful William, because you're a jump jockey. When we get there, you say you're ill, and we'll put Gethin up'." Backed from 3-1 to evens favourite, Peaceful William won by a cosy length. The reward in prize-money was pounds 180 and a normal present to the jockey would have been about ten per cent of this, but Hill gave Gethin pounds 100.

He then ran him in another selling race at Yarmouth on July 6, when Arthur Wragg was given the ride. Backed from 6-1 to 5-2, Peaceful William, surprisingly, was beaten into third place.

When Edgar Britt was given his turn on Peaceful William, at Lanark on July 21, he won by five lengths, having been backed from 6-1 to 2-1. Hill bought the winner in for 1,200gns, a record price for a selling race in Scotland, and gave Britt a present of pounds 100.

Wragg was understandably keen to ride Peaceful William in his next race, at Alexandra Park on August 22. When Hill told him that Peaceful William would not be running, Wragg accepted another ride. When he discovered that the horse was a runner, after all, he offered to abandon his ride in order to partner Peaceful William. Hill, fearful that the move would advertise the stable's confidence in the horse's chance, promised to compensate Wragg if Peaceful William won. Britt kept the ride, won by three lengths, at 3-1, and was given another pounds 100 present, while Wragg was given pounds 200.

Lilian Quirk was surprised that Stellar City had not yet resumed his racing career. She asked Hill why the horse hadn't run, and wasn't convinced by his explanation that Stellar City had pulled a muscle. It may have been her scepticism that eventually triggered an investigation. The horses' subsequent movements were difficult to untangle. According to Hill, in October 1949, Peaceful William was sent to Alfred Worsley, a breeder based in Chepstow, to be prepared for another season's racing. He was returned to Hill at the end of April 1950 but "turned sour, and turned a pig, and would not go on the Downs". Hill eventually sold the horse to a meatman, Albert Passey, but that was almost a year later, in February 1951.

Hill claimed to have sold Stellar City to Morris for pounds 1,200, a generous price for a horse who had been unable to race. Morris sent Stellar City to Les Hall, to race under Pony Turf Club Rules and, in January 1951, moved Stellar City to stables near Epsom. Other evidence suggested that Stellar City did not leave Hall until February and did not arrive at Tadworth until March.

One horse was dead and one alive, but which was which? In April 1951, while the police were investigating, Hill persuaded his head lad and three young apprentices to sign a photograph confirming that the horse in the picture, which had a white star, was Stellar City. It was true, it was Stellar City, but it was not the horse that Lincoln Close, Alan Harvey, and Dominic and John Forte had previously known as Stellar City. When Peaceful William was winning races, he was the one with the white star.

When they were required to give evidence, in June 1951, they told the truth. Maxwell Turner, for the prosecution, asked Close, "Thinking about it now, do you think the photograph you signed was the photograph of Stellar City, or not?" "I don't think it was," Close replied. He was followed by Harvey, an 18-year-old apprentice. "Do you think that the photograph which you signed was a photograph of Stellar City?" "No, sir, I don't." "Had the Stellar City which you knew a star at all?" "No." The horse sold to the meatman was the real Peaceful William.

In his summing up at the Old Bailey in October 1951 the Recorder observed, "Stellar City has survived the turmoil of the prosecution but Peaceful William perished in February 1951, and that was just when the police were getting active about this matter". Dodson also referred to Morris's bank statements, which revealed that, over a two-month period, pounds 30,000 had been paid in from successful bets. Ringing-in Stellar City for Peaceful William had been highly lucrative, but there was a price to be paid.

Hill and Morris were both found guilty and sentenced to 18 months in prison. In December, their application for leave to appeal was rejected and both were warned off by the Jockey Club.

Were they really bubbled by a 14 year old girl?

Oct 25th 1951 News Cutting

Just another days Racing - April 21st 1980

Three meetings at Brighton, Edinburgh, and Warwick

April 21st 1980 - Brighton

April 21st 1980 - Edinburgh

April 21st 1980 - Warwick

April 21st 1980 - Results

A Blast From The Past - David Coates and Richard Dicey

1968 - A terrific battle for the Apprentice Jockeys Championship took place between David Coates and Richard Dicey and with nothing to separate them when the seasons racing had ended the title was shared between the two lads with them both finishing the season on 40 winners apiece.

David Coates

A late-season injury to David Coates, forcing him to miss a number of good mounts, probably cost him the honour of being outright leading apprentice, instead of having to share the position with Richard Dicey. However, this didn't  hide the fact that Coates was the most improved young rider of 1968. Apprenticed first to the late Harry Maw at Doncaster and then to Taffy Williams at Ferryhill, David had to find success the hard way, for his own stable couldn't provide all the opportunities necessary to catch the eye of regular racegoers. Yet the talented eighteen-year-old, who had his first ride in April 1967 and his first winner the following month, did exceptionally well in securing outside rides, and with no weight worries it was hoped he would continue his success in 1969 season.

David's first winner - Border Cruise at Teeside

Sadly David died very young aged about 50 years of age as I found in the following article dated April the 16th 2001 by John Randall that appeared in The Racing Post...

For the record: Apprentice title no guarantee of fortune.
Byline: John Randall

John Lowe came from the same vintage crop of apprentices as David Coates, whose career followed a very different path, and who died recently. Coates's story emphasises the fact that an apprentice championship is no guarantee of lasting success as a jockey. He was only 18 when sharing the title in 1968, when his victories included the Great St Wilfrid, Northern Goldsmiths' and Great Yorkshire Handicaps. In the closest apprentice title race ever, Coates and Richard Dicey dead-heated with 40 wins, just ahead of George Duffield (39) and Ray Still (38). Other prominent apprentices in 1968 included Tony Murray, Graham Sexton, David Maitland, John Higgins and Clive Eccleston as well as Lowe, so they did not win the championship by default. Yet Coates and Dicey soon dropped by the wayside, whereas the others went on to various degrees of fame and fortune. Duffield, now 54, is still riding. Within two years of his championship, Coates had ridden his last winner in Britain. He moved to Scandinavia but, despite winning the Danish Derby, never repeated his success as a teenager. Most champion apprentices do become successful senior jockeys, but the careers of Coates, Dicey, Robert Edmondson, Alan Bond, David Dineley and others show they cannot all be like Pat Eddery and Frankie Dettori. By the way, where is Richard Dicey now? Perhaps a reader can provide the answer.

Well that question was answered for sure as you'll see below...

 Richard Dicey

Richard Dicey was a year older than David Coates, and rode his first winner a year earlier, having joined Epsom trainer Herbert Smyth in 1965. But it was in 1968 that Dicey really came into his own, developing his style and emerging as a good prospect for the future. He was expected, however, to have a tough time on his hands early in the 1969 season, for he was very near to losing the right to claim any allowance at the end of his fantastic 1968 season. Many a promising apprentice has faded from the headlines into obscurity for lack of support at this critical time, and his own stable, while very successful, was perhaps not big enough for it alone to supply him with all the winning mounts he needed. Outside rides in the south will have been even more vital if he was to make further progress.

Richard's first winner - Blue Iris at Windsor

Again another John Randall article goes some way to explaining what became of Richard Dicey in an article from the Racing Post dated the 17th of December 2001...


For the record: Dicey proves title no guarantee of success.
Byline: John Randall

There is no guarantee that Chris Catlin will have lasting success as a jockey merely because he has won the apprentice championship-just ask Richard Dicey. Dicey, joint-champion apprentice with David Coates in 1968, was one of the title-holders who had to give up the sport because of increasing weight, but his story has a happier ending than seemed likely at one stage. Earlier this year, just after Coates's death, “For The Record” asked for information about Dicey's current whereabouts, and the man himself replied from Australia, where he has lived for many years. Now 51, he is busy and fulfilled with his family (a Canadian wife and their two children) and his freeze-branding, antiques and property businesses in Queensland. He used to run a pre-training centre in Perth with 50 horses, and says: "I still dream about races and my heart is in horses." Dicey did not come from a racing family, but had a good grounding in the sport, being indentured to Ted Smyth, the Epsom trainer whose other apprentices included Duncan Keith, Brian Rouse, Michael Kettle and Alan Bond. His rise and fall were spectacular, as he rode his first winner (Blue Iris at Windsor) in July 1966, was joint-champion apprentice in 1968, and rode his last winner in Britain in 1969. His second winner, Polymint in the 1966 Chesterfield Cup, was his most important, but he also won the Ladbroke Cup at Windsor on Spaniards Inn (the pair were beaten a short head in the Stewards' Cup) in 1968 and the Great Metropolitan Handicap at Epsom on Clever Scot in 1969. In 1968, in the closest apprentice title race ever, Dicey and Coates dead-heated with 40 wins, just ahead of George Duffield (39) and Ray Still (38), with Tony Murray, Graham Sexton, David Maitland, John Higgins, John Lowe and Clive Eccleston also prominent. The following year, Dicey rode for Ryan Jarvis in Newmarket, but he was already having trouble with his weight and his seasonal tally was halved to 20. That was the end of his domestic career, as diuretics proved only a temporary solution to his battle with the scales. He later rode in Holland and India, and he says: "I was living on one meal a week. I would eat and then blow up like a balloon."