MEET THE DEAN

Auckland Star, Volume LXXV, Issue 244, 14 October 1944, Page 4 (Supplement)

MEET THE DEAN

ENGLISH CAVALCADE-X.

Once Gave Mighty Bayardo A Fright: J. B 0 Joel's Greatest Mistake: Abbot's Trace Takes A Fall

(By "CAPTAIN X") Back in the 'nineties, when owners often raced under assumed names—a practice that was not actually abolished until some twenty years ago—one of the most popular people on the turf was the portly "Mr. Childwiek." ~. The British public knew him better as Sir John Blundell Maple, multi-millionaire and head of a famous furnishing business.... In 1891 he made the old-fashioned ones sit up by purchasing Common for 15,000 guineas, a bad bargain, as it turned out; but he went on buying until he had a first-class stable. Many good horses came his way, notably Kirkconnel, Nun Nicer, and, in particular, a 6000-guinea yearling named Childwick. This last-named animal was called after the sumptuous country mansion Sir John huilt for himself in Hertfordshire— Childwiclcbury—and he also had the distinction of siring perhaps the most popular horse the British turf has ever known the immortal Dean Swift.

BUT Dean Swift never raced in the Blnndell Maple colours. In 1903 the old millionaire, a close friend of King Edward Vll.'s, passed away, and Childwickbury came into the possession of the then young South African financier J. B. Joel. Dean Swift had been sold to Mr. Joel the year previously. He lived at the time close by, at Northaw House, Potters Bar, and even in those far-off days was looking around for likely horses. The Years Defied A more extraordinary animal than Dean Swift we have never known. He and Brown Jack were of a similar, type, in love with racing, and always ready to pull out that little bit more which so frequently turns impending defeat into victory. You could not call the Dean goodlooking. He seemed positively ungainly, though in his case it was handsome is as handsome does. Morton, the trainer, having just finished with Sceptre and a few other real champions, thought the Dean's proper class was selling races. There he made his bow, and successfully. Then, in the late autumn of 1903, he won a nice nursery at Newmarket and progressed so well during the winter that he was entered for the big handicaps.

In the City and Suburban he was just beaten by that good horse Robert le Diable. In the Jubilee Handicap he found the class even better, and all through the season was continually running up against something just a bit too good for him. Not a race fell to him as a three-year-old, nor did he do much better the next year. But, like good wine, he unproved with age. In 1906, when a five-year-old, he ran a tremendous race for the Lincoln, only to suffer an unlucky defeat on the post by the French horse Ob. Better fortune awaited him in the City and Suburban. Ridden by the one-time amateur Herbert Randall, he won in a canter. Two years later, with the Dean now getting quite a veteran he again pulled off the City and Suburban, carrying the tidy weight of 8.12. At the next Epsom meeting he nearly won the Coronation Cup from The White Knight, about the best horse in England, and finished •up the season at Newmarket by beating Cocksure 11., ridden by Danny Maher, in a match for the Select Stakes, a race that must always have a place in the annals of the turf. Everybody thought it a walK-over for Danny, but Dean Swift and Walter Griggs had other ideas.

Probably the best fight this wonderful old warrior ever put up was in the Champion Stakes of 190», when he gave the mighty Bayardo 61b and the deuce of a fright by running him to a neck.

Humorist, Our Lassie, Princess Dorrie, Jest and other fine horses bred by a man who enjoyed phenomenal good fortune.

Snndridge as a Sire

Never tell me that luck is not the deciding factor in racing. First of all you have to find the right strain, the right trainer, and the right jockey. Mr. Joel got a flying start when he picked up a brood mare called Yours in the days when old William Jarvis trained his horses. Yours produced two classic winners for him, Our Lassie in the Oaks of 1903 (ridden by Morny Cannon), and Your Majesty, who won the St Leger in that unbelievable year when Signorinetta achieved the Derby and the Oaks. Your Majesty beat her out of sight in the St. Leger. The real bonanza, of course, was the Sundridge I have, already mentioned, bought, according to what "Uncle Jack" himself once told me, entirely on his judgment. "J. 8.," I might remark, had an infinitely better eye for bloodstock than Brother Solly.

In Sundridge, literally given away for 1450 guineas by one of the pundits of the jockey club in the person of Sir Samuel Scott, Mr. Joel found a sire who soon began to make Childwickbury really famous.

Sundridge had all the characteristics of the champion. Racing appeared to bore him until the actual start, when there was a totally different story to tell.

Successful as ne was in Mr. Joel's colours, he achieved even greater fame at the stud; in fact, Sundridge hardly ever sired a bad animal, and for a good many years afterwards he gave his owner a long line of winners, whicn made the annual visits to Epsom, Ascot and Goodwood—the usual battlegrounds of this busy man—highly profitable and pleasant.

Sunstar, Silver Tag, and Jest were perhaps the three best animals he ever sired, though there were others innumerable over a period of a dozen years, while to-day the mares by this horse and Sunstar have in their turn produced winners of hundreds of races. Yet the critics would have it that Sundridge was a roarer. I'll wager a few other owners would like to find a horse that made the same sort of noise. Jest Survives Objection For the better part of 20 years Mr. J. B. Joel enjoyed astonishing good fortune with most of his horses, both on the track and in breeding. . By Sundridge out of Absurdity— the latter another sample of "Uncle Jack's" shrewd judgment—came Jest, the best filly "J. 8." ever owned.

In 1913, Craganour's year, Jest herself survived an objection when winning the One Thousand, and then went to Epsom to pull off the Oaks after a fine race with Depeche and Arda.

Instead of deteriorating with age, he seemed to thrive on it, and his owner took frequent delight in. a tilt at the champions. .; By now, of course, the handicappers had taken good care of him, and he made his last appearance, on a racecourse at anotner of Uncle Jack's" favourite courses, Goodwood. - „ . . Here in 1911 he beat Decision a short head in .the Chesterfield Cup— a fitting climax for a real hero of the turf. ■■ ■" '-, In the grounds of Childwickbury •there is a monument to the old chap, as there are to the classic winners whn carried the black jacket and scarlet cap—S'""-tar,

And if that were not enough good luck, Princess Dorrie did exactly the same thing the following year. Jest had only two .foals, one of which was Humorist, that tragic winner of the 1921 Derby, but Princess Dorrie proved a failure when in the paddocks. However, in 1914, Mr. Joel had also won the St. Leger again, with the erratic Black Jester, even if he did think so little of the horse's chaiice that he never even bothered to go to Doncaster.

For tnat St. Leger victory he could probably thank the jockey, Walter Griggs, one of the few riders canny old Morton ever listened to.

Charlie had.a vast contempt for their opinions 8 as a rule, for the reason, probably, that he lived with the horses and the jockeys did not. I might also add that he was equally scornful about trainers' tips. One would have thought a trainer like Morton, having lived through this wonderful time with J. B. Joel, would have accumulated a considerable fortune. He did nothing of the sort. By way of explanation, he informed me that on one day at Ascot alone, in laying the odds on two apparent certainties of his own training, he lost exactly £9000. Shortest Way Home I might remark that one could quote indefinitely other examples, not only of trainers, but also of jockeys, who have actually lost all they possessed, and more, in backing horses. The people who make the' money are those who lay out an animal to win a race at a price that will show a profit. Old Joseph Shepherd, of whom I have previously written, once "readied" a real springer for a Leicester nursery, and entrusted the indispensable Fred Parker to work the commission. A considerable part of it was in hard cash, and Fred took all the members of his family—women included —up to the meeting to lay out the money. The jockey's instructions were brief enough—to maice the quickest way home. One is glad to record that this particular hot-pot won by 20 lengths, with jovial Joseph in the grandstand crying out, for the benefit of all who might be interested, that it must have been a false start. This, however, did not greatly console the poor bookmakers, who were soon going all round the ring borrowing cash from each other to pay Joe's winnings. On the course alone, that memorable day, these amounted to £12,000. The greatest mistake J. B. Joel ever made was in the year 1920, when Spion Kop came home. In the grandstand box he occupied for so many years—it usually cost him £500, what with the considerable entertaining—he said to his old friend Lord Dewar: "Tommy, your horse ought to win this to-day. Tetratema won't go the distance. Sarchedon's no good, and I've been thinking if Donoghue rides Abbot's Trace he could just about win." • "Jelliss rides the horse and he's good enough for me," retorted Lord Dewar. When Spion Kop Won • Donoghue just then was certainly on top of the world, and few people who knew would, have denied that at Epsom, as he had shown the year before when winning the City and Suburban on Royal Bucks, he was almost a law unto himself. But Lord Dewar stubbornly and properly refused to make any change until the jockeys were actually in the weighing room with the colours on. He then went and told Jelliss, most tactfully, no doubt, and with all that old-world courtesy which endeared him to everybody, that he wanted Donoghue to ride ■ Abbot's Trace, adding that if the latter won Jelliss would, of course, receive the substantial present that would have come his way had he himself ridden the animal. . j Such things have happened before • and Jelliss did- not faint, whatever . he may have thought.

I daresay he could have claimed to ride Abbot's Trace, but being, as most people know him, mcdest and self-effacing to a degree, he gave in to Lord Dewar.

Donoghue's tactics, especially devised to ensure that the flying Tetratema did not run away with the race, were to keep upsides with the big grey. Before a mile had been covered the pair of them were completely spun out, and, as the field came into the straight, the.pumped-out Abbot's Trace, utterly winded and then bumped, crossed his legs and fell, badly interfering with Sir Hugo Cunliffe-Owen's good horse, Orpheus. Spion Kop, the lesser considered of the two from Gilpin's stable, went on to win from Lord Derby's Archaic, with Orpheus third.

Time has gone its way. To-day the Belgian-born Henri Jelliss, one of the most popular riders ever known, is training at Beverley House, Newmarket, and among his patrons is Mr. "Jimmy" Joel, the only son of "J. 8.," and inheritor of all his millions. '