‘Kitch’ and Higgins – bookmaking in the 60s

 

When I was 20 I was bagman for a small bookmaking firm on course in Melbourne.

I’m tall. I stood at the right front of our stand, saw and heard the client, confirmed what s/he had said, counted the offered money and confirmed the total, said the runners name, did the mind churn to do the sum using the stake and board odds, verbalised the business, name, stake and pay, saw Llew writing, saw Stewart, the penciller, likewise writing, saw him nod or his thumb, took the ticket from Llew, put the stake in the bag, handed the ticket to the client. A thank you from me to the client.

It really is/was passing out pieces of cardboard in exchange for money.

I had worked with this firm at harness racing in the Riverina centred around Junee. They transferred to Victoria when invited to field on country harness meetings. Again, they transferred to the gallops, country first, then quickly to occasional metro, with some other firms, to staunch the falling numbers of fielding units.

‘Kitch’ loved Roy Higgins, to overuse the epithet somewhat.

Some days he would wait all day until the last two races then back Higgins in those, reasoning somewhat obtusely that if Higgs hadn’t whipped one home to win by then he would in the last couple, surely, and any price a winner.

‘Kitch’ was a member of a big Higgins fan club, some of them backed his rides to the exclusion of everything, every ride and nothing else, and some weren’t as dedicated, although almost, backing everything and something else, just in case.

Another large group seemed to feed off Higgins, ignoring him and backing other runners secure in the knowledge that the prices they were getting were better, good, boosted, affected by the simple connection of not being a Higgins choice.

In effect, perhaps, the market sensed and sorted itself. Given that Higgins was on a favourite, either earnt because of past endeavours or future expectation or because of Higgins no matter what, then the others in the race had their prices extended to a point where they may be logically expected to be and for them also earnt off past endeavours or future expectation.

All jockeys, you’d guess, become world beaters on short priced conveyances, there is just not enough of them.

But ‘Kitch’ had opinions, facts, news and ideas about Higgins and they were all positive, without exception.

Some days he would wait all day until the last two races then back Higgins in those, reasoning somewhat obtusely that if Higgs hadn’t whipped one home to win by then he would in the last couple, surely, and any price a winner.

‘Kitch’ was a member of a big Higgins fan club, some of them backed his rides to the exclusion of everything, every ride and nothing else, and some weren’t as dedicated, although almost, backing everything and something else, just in case.

Another large group seemed to feed off Higgins, ignoring him and backing other runners secure in the knowledge that the prices they were getting were better, good, boosted, affected by the simple connection of not being a Higgins choice.

In effect, perhaps, the market sensed and sorted itself. Given that Higgins was on a favourite, either earnt because of past endeavours or future expectation or because of Higgins no matter what, then the others in the race had their prices extended to a point where they may be logically expected to be and for them also earnt off past endeavours or future expectation.

All jockeys, you’d guess, become world beaters on short priced conveyances, there is just not enough of them.

But ‘Kitch’ had opinions, facts, news and ideas about Higgins and they were all positive, without exception.

My first day in Melbourne started with race 4, a wfa 7 furlong. Higgins came second and started at 6/1, although it came in from opening. We took 2 bets on the winner who started at 6/4 on generally. We wrote one at that $5/$8.33 ($8.50 with us) and the other was $20 at ‘evens’. We hawked the evens loudly but could not get business.

Higgins created his own weather, it seemed.  We wrote lots for him but balanced the payout with other bets, other runners, and we had a good keep out of it. Higgins won at 2/1 later in the day.

The weeks became months and as I fielded at Sandown and Moonee Valley mostly I often went to other venues out of interest – I was working Saturday evenings and most days anyway doing money counting with Force Four(?). The other days the firm worked the races my job (which was their job, let’s face it) was completed by another.

Llew had business interests, liquor and petrol and a motel, a vehicle dealership in NSW, and Marie is a mixed race girl from FNQ. Melbourne is cold and both of them were miserable because of it.

They closed down the business, we were paid out, and compensated, and he gave bookmaking away.

But before that and for quite some months I was minimally involved with racing in Melbourne.

You saw ‘Kitch’ every day you went. He had been going to the races for years. He went along the Rails first, checked the big board with tote prices ticking on it then came down the ramp to our place, sometimes it was a wet desert, otherwise not and always pleasant. ‘Looking for a winner’ was the greeting repeated, ‘there is one in every race’ was the reply. There might be a discussion about Higgins in something earlier and always a price query for a race looming. He was alone when we saw him and had breakfast on course he said, then lunch, and took a vanilla slice away to home – ‘snot blocks’ he called them.

Still, there was Higgins and Proud Toff, Higgins and Big Philou, Higgins and Crown, Higgins and Tobermorey, Higgins, Higgins, Higgins, bloody Higgins.

‘Kitch’ would remind you, for sure, every win, or place or otherwise and the otherwise was excused because of the barrier, why Finger, how come Gumbleton, jeez, the race distance/length, that ‘thing’ of Armanasco, or some other trainer who did not employ Higgins recently. I guess he rode for quite a few over the years so that last argument can be negated somewhat.

‘Kitch’ barracked for South Melbourne and if the horse colours were white and red, either or both, and piloted by Higgins it was a shoe-in. He got a
roll more from us (7/2 became 4/1, 6/4 became 7/4 or 2/1)but he did not seem to understand that gesture and he had to move and stop talking after placing his bet but he would usually swamp back in and tell you why 3 or 4 ‘won’t get a sniff in this’, stopping when a punter came up and resuming as if he hadn’t ever stopped.

Everything was prefaced with ‘anyways, another thing is this’ and sometimes they did ‘get a sniff’ and sometimes he was right.

He did meet Roy Higgins several times, and probably told him how good is he.

Early in the New Year Higgs won a couple on protest from riders who had formerly won as protestants. He may have been eloquent and considered when giving evidence, a bonus trait in that Court perhaps. Llew, my boss, considered Jim Johnson a better rider, although the form analysis and price construction was the job of Stewart ,our penciller.

Our pricing went evens,1/1,$2 – 6/4,$2.50 – 2/1,$3.0 –  then whole numbers to 9/1,$10 which essentially did away with the middles (meaning 11/8,15/8 etc) except when rolling out a price and besides what poor demented loveless twat thought up 10/9, golly. “WIN ONLY” is what it says. I never saw 11/10 during betting up but sometimes saw a runner marked as such in the results, it’s $2.10/$1.30 Tote divs on course were for $1 but $0.50 elsewhere. You bet with the tote up until the start, off course it was 10 minutes, it had been an hour.

Maybe Llew (through Stewart) had another priced market but was selling what the punting public wanted to buy. The fav at 3s, might be the 3rd fav at 7s in Llew real odds, however, you can buy, and he will sell you your pick, at board odds, or a roll better, just ask.

Llew might bet back runner(s) he considered overs in his market although in our ring, tiered it was called, he may not get set so Marie (the real Boss) would bet at the $100 window with the tote, although the bet back was rarely $100, it was where the fielders went to do this. Tote odds were displayed, minute by minute.

The favourite was what the client wanted, of course, then sometimes a third favourite to show off their sums, and sometimes a small interest on some thing out past 9/1. Our board never, rarely then, had long odds for last start winners, first up after a spell, running again within 15 days or last start in town no matter what the date (conditional), a good finish at middle pin odds, now downhill (closer in to the fence) than a recent run. Those mentioned would be capped at 9s probably. Weight didn’t seem to figure too much, no matter what sum, algorithm, scheme, the 1/3-2/3 conjecture (it is a thing) or computation was involved. Queueing theory had merit. Speed was not understood or more likely, not discussed, although pace was looming in importance and jockeys, especially Higgs had hidden powers although all of them had the same but in varying intensity. This was  the days of stones and pounds and Higgins rode heavy, over 8-1/2 stone, which relates better as 120 pounds (which it isn’t) Stewart the form guru for the firm always worked in imperial pounds, no stones for him.

Llew maintained that there was at least, or at most, $150 betting money from every male on course, and that’s a cash share he would like to get at, thank you very much. All of the above is domiciled in the late 60s.

I had two persons die in front of me, natural causes, and two murderers apprehended with me handing over their payout before convincing the Constable to take it, ‘he might need smokes’ was my glib response to ‘why?’ when ‘smokes and a QC’ was what I meant to say.

Twice I was the Crown witness to two grievous bodily harm incidents, one involving a son against his father who was king hit from behind and his jaw broken, and dislocated, his dentures, upper and lower, looked for and found by me then nullifying the attempt of the son who returned and was in the process of stomping, jumping, on his father’s head. He was drug affected, that was his defence, and besides he never liked his Dad, and nobody liked him, stomper. Mind you I was chained to a bag as big as a bar fridge, holding more than $4000, had the payout sheets in one hand, a cigarette, a biro, and a mug of tea. I dropped the ash off my smoke in the process and resumed paying out with most shaking my hand after that, the tea went cold unfortunately and as usual. Both pleaded the guilt, both got the slot.

I found plunges hilarious, meaning the actions and machinations of the plungers/plungee. ‘How to appear important’ would be the text book title there.

Some horses won, and most cantered in like always.

There are successful punters, those who seem to make $400 a race regularly, but you wouldn’t know them down our alley although they often bet with us. Casually dressed, a zipped bag, quiet acting, writing is always suspect, biros sometimes, scanning for a price. S/he would have to win twice before I recognised/remembered a punter who knew their work. Always a pleasure, perhaps a free tip too, we liked it at 6s, s/he backed it at 4s, roll the favourite out.

The last couple of meetings I worked, before closure, it seemed that ‘Kitch’ was on fire. On a sodden day at Caulfield he got Gay Poss at 2/1 (6/4), then missed two, unplaced, and gave the game away in the rain. At Moonee Valley he missed one, then got one at 3/1 (2/1), missed with Vain 2^nd and short, got Tobermory at 3 with us but it blew to 7/2 and it was at this point, at paying out it came to light he didn’t understand the odds, not at all. He was content with any price a winner, perhaps this is prevalent. He didn’t back any short after that, some of Higgins came in at 4/5,10/9. Big Philou fixed all that, a win at 12/1 in the Guineas (?) then a miss and a win when short, short. Couldn’t help himself. Then he got Yuri at 4s when 9/2, 5s was available upstairs. At Caulfield he stood out when Higgins won 7/4 when it drifted from being in the red and still favourite but won the Cup with Big Philou 5/1 (9/2, because he asked).

He watched Cardross 9/10 (6/4)  and Tattenham 1/3 salute and I could sense his resolve depleting. This day was a loss. I didn’t work the Cup carnival at Flemington. He backed Tattenham, very short, but a win is a win, eh, then General Command 6/1, a double 1 * 1 was the best but the tote was foreign ground to him. He was seen running with the leaders on the racing access path over the last furlong, in the last, to finish second, 6/1. He was very committed, our ‘Kitch’.

I gave him a sporting man’s ready reckoner for some light reading regarding odds.

However, ‘Kitch’ might check with me before backing his pick, as in, anyway, ‘look I’m down 80 right now, how much to get square and make, say, 20 on Higgins?’ ’30.’

‘You sure?’ ‘Yes, people waiting!’

‘I’m not sure, I’ll come back.’

‘I’ll be here!’

You could see him rummaging in his pockets and wallet about five rows back while I dealt with other clients. Poor ‘Kitch’, he had to keep $10 for fares, a feed, and a few drinks after. He said, ‘look, anyway, give us 40 on that, it’s Higgins yeah?, trumps for sure.’

Then in the payout queue he would be rocking from one leg to the other, saying, ‘did you back it?’

He has borrowed money from Plods, a bagman, who worked opposite, but not me, and never asked. Plods bankrolled this ‘coup’ as well. Why didn’t he back it over there?

Once there was a discussion, him and me, about the horses that run for us, all of them, and those one, or two at most, that run for him. Can’t happen, I wouldn’t back any others anyways, there is only one Higgins in a race, you know. Can’t wrestle with that. He was a committed Higgins fan and, who knows, when Souths went north perhaps he did too.

 

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