RICHO PAUL RICHARDS
@richowp
“Listening to the call you could be forgiven “ for thinking Bryant doesn’t share the enthusiasm. In fact, he might be on the popular elect.”
Stepping back in time with Bert and the Vert Richo spins some hot wax in a bid to relive the spring carnivals of yore. I did something during cup week I haven’t done for decades — I popped the vinyl edition of Bert Bryant’s calls of the Melbourne Cup from 1965 to 1974 on to the turntable. It was quite a revealing listen. 3UZ’s long-time broadcaster John Vertigan introduces each race with a spiel on what was happening in the build-up, both societally and formwise, before we get to enjoy the iconic Bert Bryant’s calls. Here are a few little nuggets I picked up.
1972
1965 Off the track, this is the year Australian eyes are opened to what is happening with ladies’ fashion in the UK and Europe. Vertigan opens side one with: “1965 was the year of the fillies, equine and human. In the hallowed members reserve English model Jean Shrimpton wore a miniskirt and dress exposing her shoulders.” Scandalous. On the track there is drama as the horses race past the 1400-metre mark. In a call eerily similar to Bryan Martin’s Cox Plate 1992, Bryant observes, “There’s a fall, there’s a fall. Four or five of them have come down. River Seine and Matlock are two of them.” The race develops into a thriller, with Bryant unable to nominate a winner. “They hit the line, a dead heat between Ziema and Light Fingers.” After an agonising wait he adds, “Number 14 gets it. Light Fingers and R. Higgins gets it.”
1966 Vertigan’s opener for this year highlights a major change in Australia’s way of life: “The Melbourne Cup prizemoney was in decimal currency for the first time with $62,000 on offer.” He goes on to wonder: “Will Galilee join the only five horses to win the Caulfield Cup and Melbourne Cup double?” Listening to Bryant’s call, it sounds like he did so in fine style: “Down towards the furlong and a half (300m), and here’s Galilee, he’s swamping the field. Galilee has got the Melbourne Cup won, Galilee is racing away. It will win easily.” In the aftermath, he is gushing in his praise of the winner, “Galilee has swamped this field. He has come from a hopeless position and has charged past Light Fingers. “She’d reached the lead when, all of a sudden, this one, coming from about sixth-last position, forged past them at the furlong, like they’d stopped to a walk.”
1967 The spring weather in the build-up to the cup 55 years ago was vastly different to this year, as Vertigan relates, “Melbourne suffered one of the worst droughts in history and the large crowd looked in vain for the roses and annuals to bloom.” He switches to the race: “The public seemed to be on Red Handed. A year before he’d broken a hock bone in the Geelong Cup.
a riderless horse too, one down. It’s Spectre, a race of sensations as they go out of the straight.” In the run home, he’s keeping listeners aware of how the fave is going, “As they make their run around the turn it’s anybody’s race…where’s the favourite Gay Icarus? He’s running fourth, I don’t think he can win… Igloo is the leader. Silver Knight is the big danger … Silver Knight will win the cup.” After he calls all the runners over the line, Bert offers a summary and a prediction, “What a race of sensations, what an incredible effort R Mallyon has asked of Gay Icarus, to race to the lead with a lap to go. It will be talked about for the next 50 years.” I guess we’d better make that 51, Bert.
Descriptions of a decade: but why they settled on the years 1965-1974 is anyone’s guess. “Horses don’t break bones and come back and win the Melbourne Cup. Or do they?” Spoiler alert: they do. Here we start to get a glimpse of the colour Bryant became known for as early on he exclaims, “The rider of Garcon went for the doctor, and as they went along past the eight-anda-half (1700m), it’s Garcon spearing away with a lead of six or eight lengths.” Coming to the 500m, he excitedly notes “Red Handed coming fast around the field into third, in fact he is challenging for the lead on the home turn.” Over the closing stages, Bert has another thriller to describe: “Anybody’s race with a furlong and a half (300m) to go. Red Handed and Red Crest, the two Reds in front … Red Crest in front, they’re going stride for stride, Red Handed has got his head in front and has won the cup.” A little oddity strikes my ears as Bryant announces the official numbers: “The numbers are 5, 10, 22A.” Floodbird was the third horse, and he was listed in form guides as 22A. There were 27 acceptors that year and, like now, the TAB couldn’t cope with more than 24 runners. The solution five-and-a-bit decades ago was to have 22A, 23A and 24A rather than 25, 26 and 27. So if you backed number 22 on the tote, you got two horses running for you. The drawback was that your dividend wasn’t as great. Floodbird was an 80/1 chance with the bookies, and back in those days they’d give you a quarter of the odds for running a place, or 20/1. The TAB dividend was $2.25 for a 50-cent unit — $4.50 for a dollar rather than $21.
1970 Vertigan’s focus this time is on the owner of Kiwi stayer Baghdad
Note, who hadn’t been in the best of health: “12 months previously, Mr Falconer had a suffered a heart attack and his doctor advised him to avoid overexcitement. Did Mr Falconer get excited? Judge for yourself.” He probably did, but listening to the call you could be forgiven for thinking Bryant doesn’t share the enthusiasm. In fact, he might be on the popular elect rather than the visitor: “Sixand-a-half furlongs (1300m) to go and hello, Johnson has taken off on the favourite, and casting a giant of a shadow Voleur has swept past all off the field and is taking all before him. “At the furlong and a half (300m), and Voleur is giving Johnson plenty … but Baghdad Note has got to the front, Vansittart running it down with every stride but won’t get it and the New Zealander has won it.” It’s all business afterwards, Bert not even bothering to expand on the details of the winning connections, offering blandly, “Ridden by E.J. Didman, drew barrier 14. Owned by E.C.S. Falconer, trained by R. Heasley.”
1971 As the 1970s kicked off, Australia was still dealing in Fahrenheit rather than Celsius when it came to the weather. Vertigan suggests Cup day was a lot warmer than it would be in 2022: “A glorious day with the temperature in the 80s (around 26) attracted 92,200 people. Most of the crowd had backed Gay Icarus into a 7/4 ($2.75) favourite, the shortest price since Phar Lap in 1930.” Bryant has his binoculars closely focused on the favourite as they make their way down the straight the first time and is shocked at what he sees. “Gay Icarus, he’s trapped about three deep, but he’s going fast up to the leading bunch. Where is he going? Daring tactics.” No sooner has he noted Gay Icarus’s sudden move than he adds, “There’s
Vertigan points out another change in the Australian way of life when introducing the cup of 50 years ago: “The race underwent a major change from the traditional two miles to the metric 3200 metres, meaning the race was shorter by 61½ feet.” This was a truly run race, with a popular leader of the era giving Bryant a chance to use all his colour: “Scotch And Dry has exploded away, he’s 10 lengths in front.” As the leader starts to get the staggers, Bryant has another popular horse in his sights. “Higgins said, ‘Let’s go, boy,’ on the champ Gunsynd,” as the grey Cox Plate winner makes his move. He is clearly hoping for another Higgins win: “Here comes Gunsynd but it’s Magnifique by a length and a half. Piping Lane may be the danger, he’s got his head in front … it’s a boilover.” Piping Lane’s win was clearly a shock to the famous caller. “The only way you could pick him was with the stroke of a pen. The bookies have gone berserk, the punters are broken. He’s paid 80/1 on the Victorian tote.”
THE LOVER YEARS 1968 In his prelude, Vertigan uses a little poetic licence: “(Bart) Cummings was the Goliath of racing. The David of racing was Mick Robins, trainer of Rain Lover, who had only had his trainer’s licence for three months. “Would the biblical story be repeated? Could the David of racing bring the Goliath undone? There were 82,000 at Flemington waiting for an answer.” It doesn’t take long for the action to develop in Bryant’s call, “There’s a fall in the Cup, a fall after going a short distance, And it’s Wilton Park down.” The unfortunate jockey was a youngster by the name of future Cox Plate-winning hoop Ron Quinton (1981). As the field makes its way to the home turn, Bryant builds the excitement: “There’s the big boy Galilee going around the field and being called on for an effort.” However, any hope of the 1966 winner repeating is soon extinguished as he observes, “They’ve run down by the three and a half (700m) and look at Rain Lover, he has dashed around the field.” He didn’t stop and the 1960s version David went on his merry way “At the furlong pole and Rain Lover had kicked away, four or five in front… But the Melbourne Cup is all over bar the shouting, Rain Lover and Jimmy Johnson are streaking away to win by eight lengths.”
1973 This time Vertigan explained the benefits of the local totalisator to the industry. “Thanks to the TAB, prizemoney on the cup expanded to $130,000 in prizemoney with both the winning trainer and jockey receiving miniature cup trophies for the first time.” By now Bert is offering such colour as, “Last of all and carrying the wooden spoon is Land Lover,” and, “Carrying the lantern out in front and saying catch me if you can is Australasia.” But he’s still able to focus on getting the call right over the closing stages: “Here comes the king of the Kiwis, Glengowan, and so is Gala Supreme.” After they hit the line together, he offers: “There’s a photo, but there’s no shadow of a doubt, Gala Supreme has won by inches.”
1974 The last track on side two of this classic piece of vinyl opens with Vertigan talking meteorology again. “True to the pattern of bad weather in the spring of 1974, Cup day opened with leaden skies, prompting the ladies to opt for warmer gear than usual.” The collection finishes as it started, with Bryant calling a Bart Cummings quinella. “Leilani is getting through, she’s just in front but Think Big is coming and Think Big has got up and won the cup.” If you’re wondering about the value of this piece of Australian turf history, someone has it on offer on eBay for $30. At that price, I think I’ll hang on to my copy for a bit longer.
Mick ‘David’ Robins with dual Cup winner Rain Lover.
1969 Vertigan’s prelude to one of the most famous Cup stories is suitably dramatic: “At 2.01pm, 39 minutes before the start, the warning siren blasted its way through the hubbub of the betting rings. “A stunned Melbourne Cup crowd heard the course announcement that Big Philou, 13/4 ($4.75) second favourite, had been withdrawn by order of the stewards “The ramifications of that announcement were to echo for many months, but the Melbourne Cup had to go on.” Little does Vertigan know, but those ramifications would continue for years, not months. As for the race, with one of his main dangers absent, it’s set up for a history-making performance by Rain Lover — and for Bert to pot 2/1 ($3) favourite Tails. “Alsop moved up to tackle Rain Lover, ahead of Tails — he can’t win, he can’t stay … Rain Lover got his head in front, and he’s won the cup.”
RACING.COM | WINNING POST, SATURDAY NOVEMBER 5 2022 | PAGE 9
