LONE BOOKMAKER.

Dunstan Times, Issue 3383, 18 July 1927, Page 7

LONE BOOKMAKER.

This is the true and authentic story oi one Charles Ware, the lone bookmaker of Central South Africa.

It is, also, the story of how a youth taking advantage of Ware’s absence at the war, endeavoured to steal his “punting thunder”; and how the coin-jugglers of the jungle stuck to Ware. The seat of Ware’s operations is at Nairobi, capital of the Kenya colony—which, by the way, is the youngest colony in the British Empire. He bets on all local races, but his big commissions are done on the English classics. But this is all before the story. Charles Ware, who is the son of an English ponciller to a prominent bookmaker, came, to Australia in his early youth, and gathered a wrinkle or two concerning the fortunes of the racing man who wears the bag. Ware made a friend, who advised .him to go to South Africa and make a certain fortune by laying the odds. Ware did. He began in a small way at Nairobi, and, by straight methods, generous odds, and the “bet-on-what-you-will” method, built up a betting connection, the sum total of which was worth over a million pounds. Then came the Great War, and Ware went to England and joined the Royal Air Force. And this is where the youth enters the story

While Ware was rocking on the clouds above Gallipoli, a young South African Jew insinuated himself upon the Kenya colony folk, usurped Wave's position as the rone bookmaker of Central South Africa, had a rotunda built" on the Nairobi racecourse (next to Ware’s), and thereupon laid the odds with some success. Ware crashed in Egypt, was sent back to England, and subsequently returned to his adoptive colony, not fit for further war service, but ready for the Adam-old warfare with the punters. What did he find ?

On his first visit to Nairobi racecourse there was the youth emitting nasal invitations to people to accept the odds. Ware walked straight into bis old rotunda, hung a board in front which indicated. “For cash to-day only,” and announced, “Charlie Ware is back from the war. Now what do you want to back?” Ware was recognised—the youth forgotten. Ware look the money —the youth took none. And the anti-climax must have been tragic. There was Ware shouting the odds from bis rotunda, bis wife beside him pencilling as fast as pencil would mark paper. And there was the youth leaning on a nearby railing, his own emporium deserted, watching Charles Ware turning over thousands. It was sweet revenge.

Shortly after this Ware issued a circular, which was despatched to almost every section of South Africa. It ran thus: —“I have been in business for 25 years. 1 have won and lost tons of money. I have been lied to, cussed, and discussed and told some to the end of the chapter. The only reason I have for remaining in business is to see what’s going to happen next. Signed Charles Ware, Central South Africa's only turf accountant, and the most miserable man in the country this day.”

Ware has other ways of maintaining bis popularity. On Monday mornings the settlers go to town to draw money for native wages.- They then foregather at the Stanley Hotel. Nairobi's principal hostel.

Charles Ware will wander in. "The time, gentlemen, is ten minutes to one. The drinks arc on me until one o’colck.” They flow freely for the sacred ten minutes and when the one o’clock gong rings Ware is pressed on all sides to have drinks.

But Ware is wise. He says: —“I can’t have drinks with all you lads; and if I have a drink with one and not another you’ll he annoyed, so listen here! What about having a bet? Here’s the latest information. Back what you like, and for what you tike. The bank’s sound.”

Thev know the bunk is Round, and they bet.

Charles Ware is making a fortune. And he is one of the most popular men in Central South Africa. Of c nirse. Charles Ware does not tel! this story himself. He is too busy laying khc odds in the Kenya colony.