EDITORS CHAIR: A ‘GEOFFREY SPECIAL’

Instead of my usual ranting and putting the world to rights, I thought I would hand this column over to people who really understand greyhound racing.

Fortunately, we have have some greyhound royalty among our readership and when they get in touch, I shamelessly take advantage to ask if I can tap into some of their knowledge and experiences. In particular, recently, I have been looking for memories of the late, incredibly great, ever so slightly eccentric, Geoffrey De Mulder.

I hope you enjoy reading them at least half as much as much as I have loved putting them together.

 

The term ‘royalty’ seems particularly appropriate in the case of Bob Rowe as will become clear. He wrote. ‘Hi Floyd, hope you are well. Spotted quiz for first time, greatly enjoyed memories it inspired.’

A keen greyhound historian himself, the former Senior GRA Racing Manager flagged up a film called ‘Turners of Prospect Road‘ which was recently shown on SKY. Made in 1947, it featured huge crowds at several greyhound tracks including Clapton and White City.

Bob also tweaked our recent Derby feature about the 1968 ‘Camira Flash’ incident. He said: “I don’t believe that HRH Duke of Edinburgh actually attended the ’68 final…if my memory is correct it was his equerry that represented him on the night, who was the subject of the racegoers’ wrath.”

An opportunity too goo to miss. I asked for more memories and here is a piece that Bob kindly submitted:

It is always with a great amount of pride that I fondly recall those years when I was in charge of the racing side of the Greyhound Derby at White City and then later at Wimbledon. That was from 1974 until 2006 and it was such a privilege for me to see all the fantastic greyhounds who graced the sport’s premier event through those years.

White City, of course, was the greatest dog track ever. Although there were many good tracks then nothing really came close to the sport’s Mecca. Situated very close to the affluence of the West End of London, served by excellent transport links including it’s own Underground station and surrounded by massive residential areas it couldn’t miss. Just walking into the White City provided you with a great sense of occasion.

In those days in London and it’s fifteen tracks the sport enjoyed prolific Press coverage. Both London evening papers produced a daily greyhound supplement in their mid-day editions. The Dailies too played their part with the Express, the Mail and others involved. The Daily Mirror were a major influence also, going on to sponsor the Derby for many years. Even the News of the World provided substantial annual backing to the National Inter-track championship earlier.

Back to the Derby though and the responsibility for running it. Serious planning would start early into the New Year, consideration being given to prize money levels, race conditions, staging dates et al.

I was in my element. Just like a professional footballer and being paid to do something you loved.

In the past people asked me which Derby was really memorable for me. Well, at White City there were three. Jimsun, Balliniska Band and Whisper Wishes and at Wimbledon Hit The Lid.

Jimsun, because it was my first Derby after being promoted to White City from Hall Green and who should pop up to take that 1974 staging but my great friend Geoffrey de Mulder of Hall Green ! I had known him since I was about twelve years old. He had so much personality and there was never a dull moment when Geoffrey was on the premises.

Balliniska Band was such a handsome hound. He’d caught my eye at first sighting and to quote the old proverb ‘Handsome is as handsome does’. Well it certainly applied to him, with his final victory achieved in track record equalling time.

Whisper Wishes was memorable for me for the sad occasion that it turned out to be as the final final at White City. Very few knew that just three months later it would be history. I most certainly didn’t.

The industry had been dealt a massive body blow. Over 25,000 were present, but just a year later less than half that number ventured to Wimbledon. It spoke volumes.

Through my Derby years I still maintain that the strongest line up for any of the finals I oversaw was that which featured Hit The Lid. It was a top quality field, with big race winners abounding.

Bad luck stories abound too and possibly the unluckiest dog in running was Special Account in 1982, whilst Myrtown is my choice as the best dog not to win a Derby that I witnessed.

Derby dramas develop each year. Those that spring all too readily to my mind are the heart-breaking

Heathrow episode that Patricia’s Hope was subjected to, the disqualification for fighting of ante-post favourite Lively Band and the horror which befell the incredibly quick Premier Fantasy. All sad or what ?

Strangely enough the Lively Band attack upon Shamrock Point in the ’75 semis reinforced a long held theory of mine that the majority of runners who actually get attacked are coloured dogs, for example white & brindle, white and fawn or as Shamrock Point was, white & black.

Furthermore I recall it was a very sultry evening and those conditions can often cause greyhounds to become tetchy.

(I don’t have the stats to back it up, but am convinced that there are more ‘fights’ in July than any other month, though it would be a close run thing with June – Ed)

However the two dramas which provided me with the most angst had something in common – The Dorando Marathon, traditionally the last race on the Derby final card.

Picture the scene. It’s another massive crowd, a colossal £35,000 plus invested on the Tote alone for this last race, second only in turnover to the final itself, as the runners enter the traps at eleven o-clock over four hours since the meeting started. The race is off and I clock that Anglo Imp in trap two is getting further detached as the race progresses. So much so that she is now a distance behind and no…..she pulls up.

That’s bad enough but worse she turns round and charges towards the oncoming field showing much more speed than she ever showed in the race ! There was absolutely no alternative but for me to press the emergency hare stop button. There were always four kennel staff stationed on the bends for a marathon, but they had been unable to apprehend her.

What a rotten finish to what had otherwise been another great night. What an absolute choker.

The other Dorando disaster was in 1989 at Plough Lane. Again, race fourteen and a lot of money on the tote. It was probably one of the best fields assembled for a Dorando Marathon and the race turned out to be a real battle with favourite Minnies Siren and Sail on Valerie having a real ding-dong.

They crossed the line locked together and I was in the Stewards Box and felt it could even be a dead-heat. The Judge had called for a photo but before that was produced the video replay seemed to show that Minnies Siren had just shaded it, but in those days video cameras at the tracks were rarely exactly in line with the finish and could give a misleading perspective.

Anyway, the Instaprint photo finish print came down the chute from the camera room to the Judge. He deliberated and declared correctly that Sail on Valerie had won by the shortest of short heads.

Cue trouble.It was at the end of a long hot evening and a number of the grandstand terrace customers had been imbibing with much frequency and became hostile at the decision. To make matters worse the race number on the Instaprint spinner disc, which authenticated the photo print, still displayed race thirteen ! The track staff member responsible had forgotten to change it !

Things went from bad to worse with the protesters and the Police had to be called, but it was ironed out in the end with a delegation of the heated protesters being pacified by GRA Board members well into the early hours of Sunday in the Board Room !

In fact, The Sporting Life had a brainwave and launched a cotton tea towel reproducing the front page of the following day’s paper detailing all that had gone on ! I’ve still got mine, among my diminishing amount of memorabilia accrued over all these years.

I referred earlier to Geoffrey De Mulder. Over my fifty five years in dog racing I worked with hundreds of trainers and those that greatly impressed me were Tommy Johnston, Joe Pickering, Norah McEllistrim and of course Geoffrey.

Everyone of his contemporaries who were in regular contact with him would have a Geoffrey story, which would invariably be humorous.He was great fun.

So I was transferred from West Ham to become racing manager at Hall Green in 1970, taking over from Sid Wood who GRA had sent up to start eight-dog racing at Belle Vue.

GRA had already started to engage contract trainers at Hall Green, closing down the track-based kennels. In fact Simon Harris’ dad Roger came into the racing office there to work with me.

One of the contract trainers was Geoffrey, his Meriden operation about twenty minutes from the track. He quickly made his mark and was winning virtually all the top class races there. We had a good working relationship. Of course at the time he was in the top three trainers in the country and was very prominent in the open race winners department industry wide.

His two Derby winners Jimsun and Sarahs Bunny topped the list of an absolutely quality packed roll call of top dogs that passed through his hands. Indeed for me the most outstanding aspect of his training accomplishments was the consistently incredible condition of all of his greyhounds. If they were not in absolutely top nick they didn’t come out of the yard.

Very occasionally though Geoffrey and I wouldn’t quite see eye to eye. Tuesday morning trials at Hall Green being the most obvious. His timekeeping for these had gradually deteriorated so becoming frustrated and after several reminders to him I called him into the office.

Reminding him of these reminders I said that if he was late again the following week I would send him home and he would be getting no trials. Anyway, the following Tuesday I’m down at kennelling and all the other trainers had weighed in and had their dogs vetted, identified and kennelled.

But no Geoffrey.   Twenty minutes later into the car park trundles Geoffrey and company in his old marvellously restored wooden panelled horse box, with twelve triallists in the back. He looked appealingly at me but he knew what the outcome was going to be. Half-smilingly he turned round got back into the vehicle and drove home.

(Two Derby winners , shocking time keeping, I thought we were talking about Mark Wallis- Ed)

But he was a great lad and I remember him with much affection.

Just a final smile. He had a very useful dog called Call Away and had taken it down to White City for a pre-Derby solo trial.

At the time Geoffrey was attached to Leicester where my Dad was racing manager. I recall my Dad phoning him when Geoffrey got back from London to ask how the dog had gone.

His reply, “Fantastic, he did a twenty nine o twelve “ Classic Geoffrey !

 

Charlie Lister OBE regularly phones for a catch-up on events. First the good news, he and Pat are in fine form, though the police advised them to home from their holiday home in Filey where they had been avoiding Coronavirus.

Charlie had also been following the picture quizzes and had missed the answer to the one asking which of his English Derby winners had also won the EAD at Yarmouth. To be fair, when you have won seven of one and thirteen of the other, it might be hard to recall. Charlie had missed the answer the following day, so I was happy to remind him*.

* I have since discovered that Charlie’s memory is better than mine – Sidaz Jack – didn’t in fact win the EA Derby – he finished lame

‘But while you are on Charlie, talk to me about Geoffrey’

He said: “I knew Geoffrey since we were kids. We were both from the Doncaster area where the De Mulder’s had a big knacker yard. My father used to shoe horses and he would go to the yard to buy the horseshoes from the dead horses, some were as good as new. Father could then reshape them.

“I bought one of my best flapping dogs off Geoffrey, Superior Champ. I liked the look of him and asked if I could buy him. We agreed on a price of £1,200 and Geoffrey said, ‘come down and seem him run in the heats of the Silver Salver.’ I went along and the dog ran well. When I asked about taking the dog, Geoffrey started beating about the houses.

“He said, ‘leave him with me for the final. By the way, the owner said the dog would be £1,500.’ That was a lot of money back then (1976), but I really liked the look of him. Champ won the final – Ballinderry Moth was supposed to be the best sprinter around at that time, and she was second.

“When I said I would be taking the dog home with me, Geoffrey said ‘the owner isn’t right happy about selling the dog’. To be truthful, I am not even sure the owner knew that his dog had been sold. I was fuming but I reeled off another £200 and told Geoffrey that that was the end of it, I was taking the dog.

“He still persuaded me to leave the dog with him for a few races. Then I took him flapping. He was a great dog. We won a lot of races with him including the Ashfield Derby.

“Sometimes we would end up taking on Geoffrey on the flaps. The thing is, you wouldn’t normally know, you would keep out of sight and a jockey would take the dog in.

“One night we had a dog entered, I can’t remember where, but we were on the carpark when we saw another car turning up. I said to the lad, ‘keep your head down’ and we ducked down in the car in the dark. Anyway, the other car pulled up and I could see Geoffrey, Bertie Gaynor and Sarahs Bunny’s owner Roy Hadley.

“When they had gone, I said to the lad, ‘I don’t know if they are in the same race as us, but even if they are, don’t put the money on until the last minute. They will make the market for us.

“You didn’t want anyone to know you had a runner so I waited for the race on the far side of the track. I was inside an old building and suddenly I heard a bit of banging and then Geoffrey appeared.

“I said, ‘have you got a runner in this?’.

“He said ‘yeah, and you?’ ‘Yeah’

“He said: ‘Well son, yours had better be good, because mine’s a f***ing flying machine‘

“Anyway, Geoffrey’s dog popped out but my lad went past him and beat him fair and square

“Geoffrey went a bit quiet then said, ‘F*** me! That must be some f***ing machine.’

“He was as well. He was a dog called Yellow Cowboy and I think he broke five track records on the flaps.”

 

Back in the late 1980s, we ran an April Fools spoof in the Star.

One of the stories concerned that great greyhound man Eric Meek whose son Tony (also a double Derby winning trainer) was contracted to Hall Green. We ran the story that Eric had worked at Westland Helicoptors in Bristol and had managed to secure a second hand chopper that Tony would use to transport his graders from Gloucestershire to Birmingham every week. Tony was well game for a wind-up.

The following week, after being spotted moving a traffic cone on the Hall Green carpark he had been asked by a local, ‘I suppose you are making room for the helicopter?’

‘Yeah, I keep asking them to reserve us a landing space’

In the same feature, we also ran a story using two different head shots of Geoffrey De Mulder – side by side – claiming that they were photos of Geoffrey and his bogus twin brother Clarence who was returning to England having spent the last 30 years hunting crocodiles in the Outback.

‘There can’t be much to this dog training. I’ll show our Geoffrey how to do it.’

We didn’t warn Geoffrey, but he phoned up in hysterics when he heard about it.

“What the f*** are you doing to me son? Who’s this f***ing Clarence when he’s at home?”

I reminded Tony of both stories this week, when I decided to add to the De Mulder portfolio. Tony worked for Geoffrey for a number of years and has a string of stories – some of which we can use!

Tony said: “That helicopter story hung around for months. I must have been asked about 20 times about it. In the end I used to say, ‘Yeah, we’ve stopped using it now. It made us look too flash.’

“As for Geoffrey, I left school at 15 and went straight to work for him and I knew immediately that it wouldn’t be a normal job.

“He had promised that there was living accommodation and when I arrived with my dad. I remember Derek Law was also with us. Geoffrey said, ‘well you are not actually, living with me, you’ll be living with my mother’ He took us to his mother’s house which was nearby and it was a huge mansion, where there was just her and Geoffrey’s brother, Tony. I thought ‘this is nice’.

“They took me around the side of the house to a coal shed and said, ‘this is your room’

“Derek said to my said, ‘Eric you can’t leave him here!‘

“Dad replied, ‘he’ll be fine, toughen him up a bit‘

“There was a phone in there, which Mrs De Mulder had taken out after the first night when I phoned home. But the following week, dad came back with some carpet, a proper bed, and a telly.

“The following night there was a knock on the coalhouse door. ‘Now son, will we be watching this John Wayne Western?’

 

When The Almighty was handing out patience, Geoffrey was busy queueing for a second helping of self confidence and the two came together in an incident Tony recalls from White City.

He said: “I had only just started working for Geoffrey and we arrived at White City for the Derby. There was a new man on the entrance into the stadium. I think it was his first week. It was a very young Jeff Piper (30 years on and still applying his vast knowledge in the Hove racing office).

“I was asked for my licence, which I showed and went in with the dog. Geoffrey tried to follow me

‘Licence please?’

‘What!’

‘Your licence please.’

‘Do you know who I am son?’

‘No’

‘I AM F***ING GEOFFREY DE MULDER SON’

‘Well I don’t know you. License please’

‘F***ing get, f***ing Bob Rowe now!’

‘I can’t. There is no one here to cover the gate and you would sneak in’

Tony said: “Geoffrey went potty. I don’t think I have ever laughed more.

“Geoffrey was great entertainment and a great greyhound trainer though they could be an eccentric family. Another of the brothers, Marcel, would regularly drive into the yard, grab a bag of dog biscuit and drive out at top speed before Geoffrey could stop him to get the money for it.”

 

Which reminds me of one final Geoffrey story, related by my old friend Bob Betts.

Like all the pressmen, Bob could recognise journalistic gold when he found it, and the former Greyhound Life editor was particularly fond of Geoffrey and visited him in a nursing home in his latter days.

The quote though, came from Geoffrey at his wittiest, most controversial, flamboyant peak. In the words of the great man himself

“I know I am crackers, I was born in a thunderstorm you know!”

---

Two final point to finish – a reminder of the link to archive any stories you may have missed”

Secondly – thanks for your continued support. We had just over 4,500 readers on Tuesday alone. The number of regular active users also hit new heights