by Dick Francis
Bob Ward decided to run two of his horses, lone and Polly Macaw, in a selling race for three-yearolds at the Lincoln evening meeting on 30 May. It was the first race on the card, and the distance was five furlongs. Ward engaged Peter Robinson to ride Polly Macaw, and asked Lester to ride lone.
Lester had won on lone a year earlier on her first appearance on a racecourse. She had started favourite at 5-4 on (certainly because Lester was on board) and just lasted out to beat a poor field by half a length. Between then and the fateful Lincoln meeting, she had run nine more times unsuccessfully, once coming second with Lester but otherwise finishing nowhere with a variety of other jockeys.
Selling races, more common in those days than now, were designed for bad horses, to give them a chance of a win. Running a good horse in a seller meant that the owner or trainer could be fairly sure of winning, and could make a large profit from gambling. Lester knew that Bob Ward had a habit of running better-class horses in selling races, but he didn't mind riding them, precisely because of their good prospects of winning.
After becoming champion jockey in 1960, Lester lost the 1961 title at the very last minute to Scobie Breasley, so in the spring of 1962 he set out deliberately to win all the races he could, in order to take it back. He rode anything that was offered to him, and he agreed without question to ride Ione. He says, "I never used to think of reasons why I shouldn't accept any particular ride, if it looked as though it might win.
What jockey would?"
On the day of the race, Ione, with her string of non-successes behind her, was quoted in the morning papers as favourite at 6-4 on. This was certainly only because Lester was riding, as odds automatically shortened for him always. Still, betting forecasts are anyway just that: forecasts. Often wrong.
Polly Macaw, Bob Ward's other runner, was forecast at 3-1. She had won a modest three-yearold handicap at Ayr earlier in the season (at 11-8 on), and as a two-year-old had won four times, three times in addition being placed. She was, in fact, a better horse than Ione.
Between the publication of the morning papers and the moment of the start of the race in the evening, Bob Ward and others heaped their money on the better horse, and the prices changed round. The starting price of Polly Macaw was returned at evens; that of Ione at 11-8.
Lester knew none of this. In the parade ring just before the race, Bob Ward mentioned that he thought Polly Macaw would win. Lester felt no premonition, saw no reason to be wary. He went out to ride Ione as in any other race. He rode to win, to add to his score, which was the only reason he was on the horse at all.
In the event, of course, he lost. Polly Macaw ran away with the race and won by two lengths, pulling up. Ione, second, came in three lengths ahead of the rest, having gone sluggishly throughout the five furlongs, which was in itself an odd distance and too short, as most selling plates for three-yearolds are longer. In the auction afterwards, Polly Macaw was sold to a Mr. R. Stevenson for 220 guineas, and the punters collected their winnings.
At Ithat point the thunderstorm burst. Bob Ward, Lester and Peter Robinson were invited to explain the result before the Stewards in London.
It looked bad, Lester admits. The total changeround in the betting appeared damning.
So did the fact that Polly Macaw had been pulling up at the end: if Peter Robinson had gone flat out over the line instead of sitting up and looking back, it would have been much better. He would have shown that winning wasn't easy. As it was, the Stewards interpreted his relaxation as proof that he knew Ione wouldn't challenge and pass him.
Lester, too, by the end, was standing up in his stirrups, pulling up. He never in all his racing fife drove a horse hard when it could do no good. "If I'd murdered her," he says, "I still couldn't have beaten Polly Macaw."
The Stewards said Lester appeared not to be trying to win. They also suggested that Bob Ward had given him non-win instructions, and that Lester had followed them.
Lester protested his innocence in vain. The Stewards, who over and over again had vigorously reproved and punished him for trying too hard to win, wouldn't believe, on this occasion, that he had tried at all.
They suspended his licence for two months which meant he would miss both the Derby and Royal Ascot. As for Bob Ward, who was probably the prime target, the Stewards withdrew his training licence altogether, with no limit for a return. No action was taken against Peter Robinson, because he had ridden the winner.
Bob Ward was away from racing for eight years before he got his licence back. And then, to Lester's consternation, the same thing happened again. Bob Ward asked him to ride a horse which therefore started as a short-priced favourite: Lester took the mount and got beaten by another wellbacked runner from the same stable. There was no enquiry that time, but Lester decided it might be prudent not to ride again for Bob Ward.
When Polly Macaw eventually retired after a long successful career and went to stud, she proved a great brood-mare, one of her progeny, Right Tack, winning both the 1969 English and Irish Two Thousand Guineas.
Back in 1962, shocked and angry, Lester took Susan to the south of France to while away his suspension in a holiday, and came back to race again on 30 July at Windsor.
After the Never Say Die suspension, the crowd had cheered Lester to the echo when he won his first race back. In 1962, when he reappeared after what many considered an even more unjust exile, the crowd applauded and cheered him all the way from the weighing-room to the parade ring on his way out to race: a spontaneous, extraordinary, unique outpouring of affection and trust.
The Bob Ward case was naturally not the last time L. Piggott came before the Stewards. Two or three times most years afterwards there were fines or cautions for minor infringements of the rules, but this is not unusual in jockeys riding upwards of six hundred races a year.
As for actual suspensions, in the twenty-three years during which Lester rode after 1962, he was "off " six times in England each for a few days only, and always for "jostling", "rough riding", "bumping", "taking someone's ground", trying too hard to win. As Lester says, "All good jockeys get suspensions. It's the law of averages." He has no complaints.
Suspensions nowadays are altogether more common than they were. Also they are longer: most are now for a week, not a day. Modern racing is quite severely regulated, and Lester doesn't think it a bad thing. It makes everyone careful, he says, and this is good. Even if one is careful, one runs into trouble. It is impossible to do everything right all the time.
Some of Lester's brushes with authority happened when he thought the instructions he was given were unreasonable. He was cautioned, for instance, both for "not leaving the paddock when instructed" and another time for "leaving the paddock without permission". Lester always did what he considered best for the horse he was riding at that moment. Officialdom came second in importance in his estimation, and officialdom didn't like it. Athletes and sportsmen of all sorts kick against being over-coerced, and jockeys are no exception. On one occasion I myself heard and saw an official publicly give Lester a totally unnecessary order very rudely, and I sympathised entirely with Lester's deaf-eared non-compliance. Lester knew that obeying would be bad for his horse. The official reported him. Lester got a caution.
Probably the most significant clash between Lester's professional judgment and the authoritarianism that equally wanted its own way occurred at Bath in 1968.
Lester considered, as he cantered down to the starting gate, that his mount was going lame be hind, that it couldn't move properly and could easily break down. At the post, he asked permission to withdraw without coming under starter's orders, and was refused. Lester protested. A vet was called; he watched the horse being led at a trot up and down and pronounced it sound. Lester was instructed to line up and start.
Lester said that if he were forced to line up and start, he would do so, but he would not urge his horse to race.
He was sharply instructed to line up. He did so. The race began and Lester took no part, steadying his horse t
o a walk immediately, and later trotting back.
All sorts of fury were heaped upon his head but Lester unwaveringly stuck to his guns: to race could have been disastrous to the horse, he said, and that was that. The Stewards at Bath referred the matter to the Stewards of the Jockey Club, who held their own enquiry. They concluded there should be no suspension, but they "severely cautioned" Lester and fined him F.100 for making no attempt to take part in the race.
The horse, incidentally, was found to be not only lame but incapable of galloping properly even when sound. It was only its second appearance on a racecourse, and it never ran again.
One has some sympathy for the officials: they were not accustomed to dealing with anyone so tough in mind. But on the other hand, if any official in any walk in life wants respect, he has to earn it. There were always individual officials and stewards whose commonsense Lester respected, and from them he would accept judgments without question. He has never been against authority itself, only against its imperfections and misuse.
Lester's last lengthy suspension, years later, was pure French farce.
By 1979, the increasingly frequent suspensions handed out to all busy jockeys were no longer instantly put into effect but were always for a period starting nine days ahead. "Seven days' suspension to be in operation from such and such a date." This was for the sake of trainers whose plans used to be much hampered by the abrupt disappearances of their jockeys.
Lester was given a five-days suspension late in August 1979 for not keeping straight on Thatching in the William Hill Sprint Championship at York, and during the nine days before this suspension came into effect he went over to ride at the seaside holiday town of Deauville in France. It so happened that on the morning of the Grand Prix de Deauville, there was a meeting on the course of Stewards from all over the world, including some from England. French pride in this gathering ran strong.
During the prestigious race, Lester on African Hope and Alain Lequeux alongside on Jeune Loup almost simultaneously picked up their whips to make a challenge on the one horse ahead of them, First Prayer. Alain Lequeux with his whip in his left hand gave his horse a smack and in doing so accidentally struck Lester's whip with his own. Lester, raising his whip in his right hand, hadn't yet tightened his grip on the handle: hit at that time, his whip flew straight out of his grasp and dropped to the ground.
It looked as if Jeune Loup was beaten and that African Hope might win, so it occurred to Lester he might borrow the necessary encouragement from his neighbour. Accordingly, he reached over and put his hand enquiringly on Lequeux's whip, more or less asking for the loan, and Lequeux, after a second or two, let him take it. There was no "snatch", as widely reported in the Press.
As it happened, Lester could make no impression on the leader and Jeune Loup finished strongly after all. Lester, second, gave Alain Lequeux, third, his whip back after the winning post, and both jockeys returned to the weighing-room grinning. It wasn't Alain Lequeux who complained at all, but the trainer of Jeune Loup. He alone was angry, and he made a fuss.
The laughter hung lightheartedly over the holiday meeting for the whole afternoon, but didn't seep into the Stewards' room. Tut tut and dear dear, this was no joking matter. This had happened in front of the Stewards from all over. French pride demanded serious retribution. The placings of the second and third horses were swapped round, and Lester was sentenced to twenty days suspension, which meant missing the whole of the St. Leger meeting.
The English Stewards told Lester they wouldn't have suspended him themselves and the French jockeys urged him to appeal against so harsh a sentence, but with little faith in appeals he skipped off to the sun with Susan and had a rest.
The whip in question was auctioned four years later at a Charity Race Day at Ascot, making £8,400 for the Invalid Children's Aid Society. Someone, at least, had a sense of humour!
Earlier in the same year, Lester had to pay a colossal fine in Hong Kong for pushing away with his hand the head of a horse crowding him. Foul riding, they called it.
Commonsense, Lester thought.
Funny life, a jockey's.
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13 Sir Ivor
MANY and varied were the changes and upheavals of the years between Lester's third and fourth Derby winners, St. Paddy in 1960 and Sir Ivor in 1968, most momentous of all being the champion's parting from Noel Murless.
That partnership had looked to be solid forever. The two protagonists had acted together in great accord, trusting each other, appreciative and companionable, oblivious to a great extent of the difference in age. As far as Noel was concerned, Lester had a place for life. Lester, growing from eighteen, when the Murless job had been an offer beyond dreams, arrived ten years later at a point where he felt confined and, despite all his triumphs, unfulfilled.
Noel looked at the yardful of horses at Warren Place. Lester looked at the world.
Noel's roots were in the gentlemanly tradition where success was its own reward, but Lester frankly wanted to make money. Noel's owners, charming and friendly, were nevertheless not financially the best to ride for. Jockeys' fees weren't stunningly large, nor were their percentages of winning prize money generous. After tax, in spite of Press reports to the contrary, even the champion was making no fortune.
"The papers didn't bother to do their sums," Lester said of that time. "I read that I was a millionaire. But six hundred rides a year at CIO a ride, that was £6,000, and winning percentages at 71/2% came to £7,500, if I won £100,000 in prizes. Take tax off. How could I possibly be a millionaire? It was rubbish."
He was missing also the financial advice he had occasionally received from banker Sir Victor Sassoon during his annual summer trips to England, and was unable to find anyone else to help him with money management. "You have to learn to do it yourself," he says: and he began to put his mind to it seriously.
No athlete or sportsman, amateur or professional, can be sure how long his career will last. It's considered normal nowadays to make what one can while the peaks of youth allow, and in the nineteen sixties, particularly after his crash in Paris, Lester began to see consolidation as his number one target. Winning itself was fine, but he had Susan, Maureen and Tracy and his own future to provide for, and at thirty he couldn't have imagined that his supremacy would march on for another twenty years.
He wanted freedom. He didn't actually want to leave Noel Murless, but he wanted liberty to choose other horses in preference if he thought they had more chance of winning any particular big race than the home-grown offerings. Noel wanted a jockey totally loyal to his stable. He expected Lester as a matter of course to ride whatever horses the stable ran, and only to ride for other trainers when not required at home. A retainer binds a jockey to do just that, and Noel had retained Lester's services for eleven years.
In 1966, Lester, by his own choice, took no retainer from Noel. The old arrangement still appeared on the surface to be working, but there was no binding contract between them, only habit. As often happens in racing stables after several consecutive tremendous years, Noel's yard went through a comparatively quiet period after 1961. Winners came in plenty, of course, but there were no St. Paddys or Crepellos, no dizzy heights. In 1965, Lester had handsomely hung on to his title with 160 wins, of which twenty-eight had been Murless trained; but his own summits of the season had been the Ascot Gold Cup on Fighting Charlie, trained by Farnham (Freddy) Maxwell, and the King George VI and Queen Elizabeth Stakes, also at Ascot, on Paddy Prendergast's runner, Meadow Court.
In 1966 Noel Murless decided to run Varinia in the Oaks, requesting Lester to ride.
Varinia had won her previous race but not with Lester who had excused himself to go to Ayr instead, to ride and win on Aegean Blue for Fulke Johnson Houghton in the Usher-Vaux Gold Tankard. Lester said that in the Oaks he would prefer to ride Valoris, owned by Charles Clore and trained by Vincent O'Brien. Vincent had asked him, and Lester intended to accept.
There were no raised voices. There was silence be
tween them; hurt, on Noel Murless's part, determined on Lester's. The trainer told the Press that the partnership was at an immediate end, and the jockey regretted it but stuck to his decision.
Valoris was the third of three O'Brien runners at Epsom, all with Lester aboard, all backed down to favourite. The first two, Right Noble in the Derby and Donato in the Coronation Cup, ran very listlessly, each being beaten not by a hard-driven half-length into second place, but finishing sixth or seventh by a distance. Lester went out to the Oaks uncomfortably aware that he might have thrown away his friendship with Noel Murless for the sake of a stable going through the general doldrums.
For most of the race it may have seemed that way to the Epsom crowd. Varinia, the spurned filly, set off well, made a good but sensible pace and led for one mile and two furlongs. Only with two furlongs to go did Lester seriously move on Valoris, but from then on there was no doubt. The O'Brien filly went into the lead a furlong out and with Lester riding collectedly sped easily past the post first, with Berkeley Springs running on into second place.