When you get to my advanced years, the one thing you cannot afford to do is take a fall, writes Tony Stafford. So many friends of my generation have suffered broken hips or worse, two in separate incidents in one case. Another, Maurice Manasseh, still feels the discomfort and has the bruising to show from his tumble down a difficult flight of steps during Royal Ascot, only minimised by girlfriend Clare’s alertness in interrupting the fall.
Late last week I learnt of another long-time friend’s awful situation. Prince Rajsinh of Rajpipla, son of the much-revered Maharajah of Rajpipla, owner of 1934 Derby winner Windsor Lad, slipped and fell in the foyer of his block of flats “two years ago”, he remembers. He suffered such serious injuries that he is now confined to bed and needing support from a team of four carers.
While feeling so frustratingly helpless, he says “I watch the racing 12 hours a day and still have my tiny bets”. Without the Sport of Kings and for that matter of Sons of Maharajahs, he would be totally lost.
A tall, lean, always-smartly attired man right up to the time of his accident, Pippy used to stroll every day from his apartment in Park Lane, next to the Dorchester Hotel, and up to St John’s Wood. It was almost a five-mile round trip. “Now, I cannot walk at all. It’s horrible,” he says.
In his early days in the late 1950s and early 1960s he was a youthful owner with Major Peter Cazalet, one of the premier jumps trainers of that era. He had plenty of success with Cazalet, even selling a couple of his up-and-coming horses, Three No Trumps and Oedipe II, the latter acquired from France, to Her Majesty the Queen Mother. They became good friends.
Apart from being one of the leviathans of the betting rings of the South-East in those days, he was also something of a man about town, often seen in the company of such as Joan Collins and her then husband, the singer/actor Anthony Newley.
I knew him from the track probably a decade later and then when I took over as part-time editor of The Racehorse weekly paper, inheriting Pippy as one of the correspondents. He was then living in France and used to send over his weekly offerings by post. It came in flowery handwriting and always showed how close he was to the action over there, close friends especially with the Head family, Alec and children Criquette and Freddy.
One Monday morning in May 1976, so 50 years ago, he called with a real exclusive. The day before he had been at Longchamp to see the Prix Lupin, a discontinued race for years, but in those days the best trial for the Prix du Jockey Club (French Derby).
Owner Nelson Bunker Hunt, a major American owner-breeder, long before his demise after trying unsuccessfully to corner the world silver bullion market, had two runners in the Lupin. The favourite was Youth, ridden by France’s perennial champion Yves Saint-Martin, and his other runner, Empery, would be the mount of Lester Piggott. Both were trained by Egyptian-born Maurice Zilber and they finished in the correct order, with Youth first and Empery third.
The bombshell was that Pippy overheard Lester whisper to Zilber, “I’ll ride him in the Derby”. Talk about an exclusive. Even Peter O’Sullevan, Zilber’s friend, hadn’t been privy to the conversation. Empery was 33/1 that day, but not for long; Lester duly took the ride and Empery, 10/1 by Derby Day, won as he liked with Wollow, the 2,000 Guineas winner and favourite for Henry Cecil, failing to stay. Youth won the French Derby, naturellement.
It was also at that far-off time when Michael Dickinson was still a jockey riding for his father Tony from their yard in Gisburn, Lancashire, before the later move across the Pennines to Harewood in Yorkshire. The very tall Michael used to go to a sauna every night to help keep his weight under control and would then call me most evenings at the Daily Telegraph, starting every conversation with, “Now then!”
One night he said his dad was planning to travel to New Zealand to try to buy some horses. Derek Kent had had great success at that time with New Zealand imports in his yard near Goodwood and Tony wanted to try to follow his example.
Knowing, however, that I had a nice contact in France, I suggested to Michael that maybe they should first think about a shorter trip. Pippy soon organised a visit to the stable of Malcolm Parrish, a friend of Lester’s who had around 100 horses in his stable, officially under his head lad’s name, among them some “proper horses.”
They went over and came up with two: a four-year-old called French Hollow who had a very high handicap rating and a three-year-old who had already run twice over hurdles early in the year called Flying Hugue. They bought the pair and French Hollow turned out to be a top-class hurdler in the UK before transferring to the US where he became champion steeplechaser; Flying Hugue landed a massive gamble first time at Wetherby on Boxing Day.
There were three Dickinson runners in that race. Two older newcomers – Brother Broncho, ridden by Michael, and Carnival Day as well as Flying Hugue. Colin Tinkler had the mount on the three-year-old as he could do a light weight. So, while everyone expected Michael to be on “the one”, as he remembers, “I only told Col he would win in the paddock. He did!”
That purchase was the forerunner to my accidentally meeting Malcolm Parrish with David O’Brien (Vincent’s son, a Derby-winning trainer himself and now a happy wine grower in France) at the Cashel Palace Hotel, close to Ballydoyle. I came away from the meeting owning ten horses! I told Malcolm I had been the instigator to the French Hollow/Flying Hugue deal. “Want any more?” he asked. “Okay,” I replied. “Fancy ten for 100k?” “Why not?”, although I doubt I had 10 grand at the time.
Still, Brunico, Santopadre and others soon sorted out that impossible situation, while Malcolm, who owned carpet mills in Europe, later bought neighbouring Lordship and Egerton studs although he would later return to France with wife “Snif” having sold the farms near the National Stud and July Course in Newmarket.
Pippy came back to London soon after and as he says, “I’ve lived in this flat for 45 years now.” Apart from being a regular racegoer at the London tracks for most of those many years, he also took time to produce a well-received booklet called The War Zone and wrote for several years for the Sun newspaper, which used his title and racing knowledge in its own inimitable style.
If all that seems a long time ago, he does have a cherished memory of his last trip to a racecourse. He recalled, “The last time I went racing, I spent the day with Jilly Cooper. How awful that that wonderful person and writer should have died after a fall at her home last year.”
*
For many years, no Ascot meeting would have gone without the presence of Prince Pippy and he was always an astute paddock watcher before finalising his bets. He would have loved being there on Saturday for the latest instalment of the Shergar Cup, an event graced for only the second time, and first for 20 years, by Ryan Moore.
Granted a free day by the switch of last weekend’s Curragh fixture to Sunday, he gave great professional legitimacy to a day which is never short of enjoyment among the always healthy crowds. Ryan, winning two and placed second and third once each from his five mounts, won the individual award. His UK and Ireland team, completed by Dylan Browne McMonagle and Saffie Osborne, took the team prize. “It’s been lovely,” said a beaming Ryan.
Meanwhile, son Toby was over at Newmarket getting home by a short-head on Man Of Vision in a handicap for his boss Charlie Appleby. With so many nice horses at home to ride, and with Ryan to keep an eye out for him, and rein in any over-confidence, it’s clear that the 7lb claimer is on the right path.
I spoke to his grandfather Gary at Goodwood the other day, saying he must be pleased with his grandson’s progression. He said, “He’s doing all right – considering he’s in a care home!” Wonder what he meant? No doubt Gary might have preferred the sort of rough and tumble with which his own four kids Ryan, Jamie and Josh, along with sister Hayley, started out. To think that Ryan’s first ever winner came in a hurdle race!
The most amazing result of the past week was by a Godolphin horse trained by Charlie Appleby.
When an Appleby three-year-old makes its debut at a place like Kempton, you would assume that all the work riders – lots of ex-jockeys among them – would have an idea of what to expect and the horse would be priced accordingly. But when Fortunadine, a gelded full brother to recently retired multiple Group 1 winner Rebel’s Romance took his first steps on a racecourse, he was only moderately fancied.
Fortunadine was allowed to start at 7-2, with James Doyle getting him fast out of the stalls in this 1m3f novice race, the pair simply stretching relentlessly further clear of their 11 rivals to the tune of 21 lengths.
It seems nobody had a clue, Charlie saying, “He shows us nothing!” He has now! Pippy was watching. “I’ve never seen anything like it!” he said.
- TS
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