TRIUMPH OF THE “TOTE”

Wanganui Chronicle, Volume 74, Issue 196, 20 August 1931, Page 4

TRIUMPH OF THE “TOTE”

\ MAZING SCENES AT ASCOT ’ I LAST MARCH OE BOOKIES < Amazing scenes took place at Ascot I • recently when the fashionable throngs • s an England's most famous racecourse | i welcomed the ‘‘tote" with open arms i ‘ wd pockets. | < The machine triumphed, says one j i London journal. The tote beat the i bookmakers flat, and thousands of the • j fraternity watched disconsolately and < read their fate in flickering numbers. , < and listened to their swansong, the ? bumming of a thousand tiny wheels. Special trains from Waterloo bore the Briny of totemen to the course in the •arly morning, while the bookies, wait- . ing tor later and slower trains, packed thv barriers and deluged them with bit- . ter gibes. And then the course. T.» be ungram- I 1 matieal and terse—the tote walked in. ‘ ? Amazing scenes. Six-deep. tight- ‘ ’ jammed queues of top-hatted men and ■ exquisitely-gowned women positively j stormed the windows. On the Hunt i Cup alone £16.816 was invested. Horses I ‘ were saddled, numbers were up, and ! still the crowds pushed and scrambled ' 5 towards the tote. ! 1 The bell went. Down came the win- ' ( dow>. and yet the hundreds still waited. , ' murmuring and striving. One girl of ' a eighteen in a mauve trifle broke down i am! cried. ’ Scores missed the race. It was no- i ; ticed that the Prince of Wales, in the • paddock, was doubled up with laughter i at the scene, and pointed joyfully at I ’ several hopeful individuals who waited ! 1 outside the melee—their stakes clutch- ' 1 ed in their moist hands. . ! And over it all—yon could hear the j eaeophonv of the livid bookmakers. It; 1 sounded Tike a requiem. ' ‘ To those who say that the racing at I ' Ascot is a pleasant myth I offer the j ’ spectacle of a middle-aged woman in ’ ■ T>right scarlet. from whose right ’ * shoulder the dress had slipped—a wo- j man with battle in her pye and a frac- I 1 fared bird of paradise in her hat— I 1 bursting from th ■ mob and clutching i the ami of nn amiable bishop with the | < triumphal paean. “Arthur? T’m on! I'm’. ' - I’m on? ... Oh. Arthur?” Br‘ T an? forgetting. wa= nearly tragedy. It was like this: Franctic Officials. nere to the right of the royal ! 1 enclosure a clock chimes eleven. It is | j a nasty, . racked clock with a curse in | : it- clap|>er, chuckling at the leaden skv | 1 and the spitting rain. Frantic officials tore about in front} nf tho royal enclosure. The delightful i I gentlemen in green velvet and top hats ; j keeping watch and ward on the royal i ! »ate scuttled to safety. Waiters, bands- ’ < men. commissionaires blasphemed into th Tho race-card mec, who wear straw!’ hats in mourning, shot into their kiosks and popped out dripping and thwarted ( fares into the morning. Then word i j came that owing to the rain the King i . had decided to cancel the procession 1 ■ eby ear! Deep and utter bloom descended upon : c Ascot. Life was mud. The air was ; not as fresh ns it was. Minutes of livid suspense. And then I - « Minbeam! One little sunbeam? Out , , ■>op the emt-raid gentlemen, out pop the ' waiters and commissionaires, out pop everybody. Whoopee? The first car crunched on the gravel, ; and the women twittered in? Jn hundreds they came. Let us speak of them, i They are infinitely more interesting • than the Ascot men. whose poise and ' appearance always suggest that they are returning from or are en route for, the funeral of a beloved relative. Those women? Melodics woven into I • Bilk, and a rainbow squandered on a ! single skirt. Gold and silver satin, I • white throats and bright eyes. Sweet ( girls lovely in their plumage, and squat 1 dowager- happv in their dressmakers. . t Hats like pimples and hats like ome- • 5 letter Skirta lik tents, and now L and again skirts like baby’s pinafore. Wonderful complexions, mauve and ■ pink and green and orange—and once, j J for an adorable minute—natural. Love- I ly, happy women. . Orchid mauve was the Queen's dress. I wit? silver threads on her corsage and ’ ( her folded tissue toque shot with silver. I r Princess Mary wore her favourite tone 1 of soft blue, and the Duchess of York, i j of the laughing eves, was in rose red i and ivory. Now. without cease, the glittering; j cars rolled up. and the swift servitors ' , handed out the women like bouquets i t from n florist’s window. The sun shone j itK all the women laughed. When tiro* ( happens Ascot has found itselr. i • “The Gloomy Bookies.” • And down the tiny hill tramped tired s men. “’hey were disconsolate. They went■ ’ LoXe down that footpath to the ' station, their unpatronised satchels j r round their shoulders, their “body I guards” slouching, listless, hands in • 1 pocket'. There were hundreds of them. | tired, gloom v : trudging back down that | r hill. I v Fat men from Birmingham, thin men . r from Leeds, men from Coventry. Brad- • - ford, Manchester, men from the little , r back-street offices and the rooms of * twenty tehqffiones. 1It was finis. It was the Last March of the Bookies—and it was somewhat T pathetic. c — - t Why worry about no town clock when q you can obtain a Reliable Pocket n Watch for 30/-. with a guarantee for q 5 years at Nettle.-hip ’<.• d