Missed The Bulls But Saw The Horses

Press, Volume CIV, Issue 30739, 1 May 1965, Page 5

Missed The Bulls But Saw The Horses

(Specially written for “The

Press” by

TUI THOMAS)

WITH less than five hours to spend at Sydney’s 10-day, eight-night Royal Easter Show, the sensible attack is to get a map of the 71-acre show ground, plot your route and keep moving. It is fatal to settle comfortably on the stand if you want even an impression of the goods in Australia’s “shop window.”

But a small group of South Island journalists who rushed compulsively to the ring on Good Friday had no regrets about missing the bulls, the wool, high fashion, aboriginal art and “Space Flyers.” They saw the horses; they went away happy. Fine thoroughbreds, proud Arabs, sturdy Galloways, police horses and ponies, they kept on coming in such numbers and of such quality that one almost wished for the sight of a scrub, by way of contrast. And the riders: for all their finesse in horsemanship, many of them looked as if the impulse to rip, charge and tear away (yelling “yippee”) was only just under control. They were a lusty lot, on that glaring hot morning and exciting to watch. Uniformity of style mattered not one hoot. The “Aussie Seat” In saddle-horse classes and dressing tests you will see the perfect forward seat and faultless manners, the product of many-years’ tutoring. Hard by will be the ramrod back and long stirrups taught, in all probability, by an Army grandfather. Then there will be the occasional nonchalant, deceptively sure saddle position that is known to foreigners as the “Aussie seat” from the waybacks. All seemed to have some share of success in the various sections. Uniformity emerged when the teams of police horses ridden by New South Wales mounted troopers trotted in —-and with the pony club teams. Mounties, in their navy jackets and white helmets, doing their sectional maneouvres had their hands full. For all their precision of movement and the apparent rapport between horse and

rider, there was many a tussle for mastery in closed-in formation. “Good ole mounties,” someone cheered. “You’ll do me.” Me, too. Over Them All Then it was time for the sixbars jumping contest. Riders not competing poured into the stand, wearing immaculate jodhpurs, carrying their jackets. Boys selling ice-creams, cool drinks and newspapers stopped calling their wares for the moment. City children, out for a day at the show, went on quietly eating their pink confections. The buzz of many foreign accents and the Australian graziers’ voices dropped to a murmur. The

first of nearly 30 riders was on his way. . Ridden under international rules, with faults announced after each competitor left the field, the event was easy to score. Spectators reacted as if their nearest and dearest were taking part. One woman said she went over each jump with every competitor and felt exhausted from the effort. The jumps were placed in a straight line with a distance of about 12 yards between each. The first was 3ft 4in the sixth was sft. A competitor who knocked down a bar was allowed to keep going. Those with clear rounds went into the second round with the jumps put up higher. It

could go on indefinitely, but the judge had the right to end the competition after the fourth or fifth round. This was not necessary. Miss Marjorie Coombs, who came to New Zealand in the Australian riding team a few years ago, made five faultless jumps on Kawliga but tipped the sixth and was out The Wild One Only four horses jumped clear and a roar of approval went up for each of them. The second round eliminated two and things became tense as a docile bay and a fourlegged charge of dynamite came up for their turns. This was Australia and, sure

enough, the ironmouthed wild one, named Newtonian, won. The crowd went crazy for Woods, the young rider. “Wish the Duke of Gloucester could have seen that performance,” someone remarked. (The Duke had opened the show earlier in the week.)

We noticed on the programme that “ladies” had to carry 1541 b and “gentlemen” 1651 b in this event. Tradition dies hard in show rings, even in Australia. These ladies and gentlemen would have been “women” and “men” in any other sport. But it was lunch-time and no time to ponder on niceties. Full concentration was needed to find the way to a given point through a crowd of

more than 145,000, most of whom were going in the opposite direction to us. The Moore Park showground is like a small town with a maze of named streets, grassy picnic areas and permanent buildings, some as big ns a town hall. A cigarette firm has a theatre-in-the round, with air conditioning. It was no wonder the place was full of people waiting to see a film many had seen before.

The optside temperature by early afternoon was soaring past 80 degrees. In the pig pavilion it seemed even higher. The picture shows a stock parade in the ring at the show.