speedway_pioneers

The Great Speedway Adventure of 1928
Part Two
Frank Pearce takes up his tale with the first appearance of the International Speedways Limited riders on the company’s tracks: - “We started racing at White City and on our first day we were greeted with rain. The track itself in places had as much as three inches of water on it; as a consequence, the times were exceedingly poor. I remember most of our riders dashing round, only to be forced into a puddle hole with the water splashing on to their plugs and a stoppage occurring. Ben Unwin put up the fastest time of the day with 28 ½ miles per hour. The boys were really feeling the ban which the manufacturers had placed on them, no one being able to get really good motors. I had ordered from Sydney some parts from the factory to be sent across to England, but on arrival found they were not there. “The rain stopped, and we started racing at Harringay and Wimbledon, two nights a week on each show. Our boys were riding in good form, but the tracks would not hold the speed; as a consequence, most of us came down in slides. Others ripped off chains, twisted their frames, and many, many breakages of parts which never occur at Davies Park. It was quite a common thing to see six start in a heat and everyone fall off. On one occasion I fell off, picked up my machine, rode on, only to fall again at the next corner; but I eventually won the race, as everybody else fell off. From this one can gather that there was a lot of luck connected with it at this particular period. “I do not know what the other boys were making, but I know that my prize money for the first three weeks would not exceed 16 pounds per week, even though we were riding six meetings a week with 300 pounds prize money each night. As I explained before, a wonderful feeling of comradeship had sprung up between the riders, and so disheartened were they with everything that one seemed to want to help the other, and it was a generally agreed thing among the riders that whoever won the trophy paid for a supper. This supper, I might say, was usually held at about 1 o’clock in the morning. From here we adjourned to our bedrooms on the fourth floor, and so up-to-date was the hotel that we had to walk upstairs as there was no lift. Noel Johnson and I shared a bedroom next to the bathroom, and we would lock our door after we had had our bath and get into bed. A little while later all the boys would troop along and bang on the door until we let them in, and then there would be a general levee, until such times as our room was in a fearful state of disorder; then gradually, one by one, they would have their bath and go to bed, leaving us at about 3 a.m. to go to sleep. At 7 o’clock we would make tracks for breakfast, and as bacon and eggs was the only breakfast foodstuff in the morning, we had bacon and eggs. Later we set off to work, either by taxi or bus, as Noel and I were doing our motors in Edgeware Road. “After a month of this we all decided, at least Noel and I decided, to get into a flat as it was impossible to get real sleep in a hotel, and it was costing us 2 pounds 12 shillings and sixpence per week for bed and breakfast – they would not take us as weekly guests. To find a flat was a task, as it is necessary to produce references – at least three – and give other credentials before you can get a flat. Even then they are investigated. We were fortunate, as we got one very near to our work at five guineas per week, plus 2/6 a week to have our garbage carried away, plus telephone, electric light and gas. I might add that, knowing what terrors the boys were for having a bit of fun, I procured this flat under an assumed name, as I felt sure that the boys would come along and have a bit of fun, and the least noise means you are thrown out, and as we had paid 30 pounds odd for our first month and security against depreciation, we felt indisposed to lose it. Eventually all the boys got into flats, which life was really more home-like. Thirteen shillings a week it cost us for a maid, who is known as a ‘skivvy.’ After we were there some six weeks we had wonderful sunshine – no rain – and we had learnt a little of the conditions of England, or should I say London. The boys, one and all, although not homesick, were not happy in these surroundings. Possibly the bad luck which we were having made this much worse. So disheartened were the boys at times that I remember sitting in a taxi coming from Harringay one night, with one rider on the verge of crying and another one well and truly in the dumps. I might say that I was not feeling too bright myself. Anyway, to liven things up a bit, Billy Lamont, who had won a double, had to stand for the supper, and for a bit of fun the boys had made it up between themselves to get me drunk. Again I must confess that the will weakened considerably, and out of sheer devilment I drank two bottles of the beer which they had bought for my benefit, as much as I dislike the taste of it, and some three or four hours later I could be seen sitting on the floor, laughing and joking in between spasms of vomiting. At 5 o’clock in the morning they took me out to get some fresh air, and we wound up at Coventry Street Corner House, where I sat down and had some poached eggs, but although these bottles of beer were only small, they must have been crying beer, because that was the predicament I was in. These things being very vivid in my mind, explains why I have no ambition to go back this year, although I have been approached. One is apt to forget when we get back among our own, but immediately we got back we would, no doubt, feel the same way as we did before. “We had yet to realize that every stick and stone in England is of some historic value, and from a tourist point of view must be really wonderful."

Ben Unwin	Dick Smythe	Jack Bishop
“Soon after Noel and I had taken up the flat the other boys did likewise, but as London is so big, one did not know where the other was really living, but settled down in the meantime to racing in earnest, and it was quite the usual thing not to see one of the riders for a week or more. Some time after we started racing Dicky Smythe had the misfortune to break a finger, whilst Vic Huxley later on had the bad luck to get fairly severe injuries to his leg, which kept him off the track for a fair period. Following this Billy Lamont had six weeks on crutches, owing to injuries to his foot caused through falls. Jack Bishop seemed unable to master either machines or tracks and fell practically every time he rode, only to be carried off on a stretcher and laid up for a fortnight or more on each occasion. Hilary Buchanan was injured, also all the other boys at some time or other. I myself must have fallen at least 200 times during my 4 ½ months racing, and on one occasion suffered from water on the knee. On the particular occasion when I fell we had just started and had reached the first corner, approximately 50 yards from the starting line, when I was thrown clean over the handle bars and on to my knees and face. No one ever actually knew what used to cause these falls, the only explanation being the state of the tracks. “In spite of all this the boys, in their own way, were very humorous. At Harringay one night Dicky Smythe came in grinning from ear to ear and told the boys that there was a terrific hole at the bottom end of the course, and, should they fall, to keep their hands up above their heads, as that was the only way the officials would be able to know where they were. The boys would get together and discuss in pretty plain terms the fearful state of the tracks. Unfortunately, the English public, as I explained before, could not get close to the racing and did not see the finer points of the game. As a consequence, if a man broke a record and an announcement was made, the public would still remain in deathly silence. “I rode at Harringay six nights and never earned a penny owing to breakages and falls. So much had I lost owing to the tracks, that I decided to just tour along the same as the majority of others and get place money, which, I might add, was a wise course, as immediately I started riding under these conditions my prize money increased to double, while my expenses were a great deal less. One night at Harringay Frank Hunting looked at me and smiled when one of the officials came up to me and said, ‘Why don’t you try to win? We have seen you ride and know you can do it if you make up your mind.’ Frank Hunting turned to me and said, ‘I don’t blame you; it is hard enough for us to run a show with these types of tracks, and I am sorry that we cannot offer you something better; you are all doing your best, and I don’t blame you for not trying under the conditions under which you are riding.’ It was not like Frank Hunting to say these things at any time, but he was very sincere about it as he realised how hard it was on the boys. “We were still drawing very poor houses, and so bad were things that a meeting was held in my bedroom one morning at 2 a.m. to come to some arrangements about reducing prize money. I realised that to spend 300 pounds a night in prize money, look after the tracks, and pay expenses, must be eating up an enormous sum, with practically nothing coming in. I could only foresee trouble ahead, in which the boys would undoubtedly have had to share had things not altered. As a consequence, I was quite agreeable to a reduction, but only on the understanding that immediately the company made the money they would show their appreciation by handing some over to the boys. I shall always remember A. J. Hunting’s face when the boys agreed to the reduction, which brought the prize money down to about 120 pounds a night. However, he was able to talk to his directors, and they came to the decision that we could hand out as many free passes as possible. As a consequence, the boom which was probably read of out here (in Australia) was not a financial boom, as at White City we were getting 100,000 crowds, whilst only about 2,000 or 3,000 were paying at 1/2 a time, plus the few who might be in the 5/-, 7/6, and 10/- seats. This sort of thing continued for about a month. Meanwhile we were still getting the prize money agreed upon. Later they cut down complimentary passes and the house dwindled down to 20,000. Afterwards it gradually increased, and within the next couple of months increased to such an extent that there was not even standing room up till the time I left England. How long the game will last in England is very hard to say, as the people do not get the class of racing and thrills, nor can they see as we see here in Brisbane. Brisbane people in my opinion, are very well – if not exceptionally well – educated to motors such as used in the sport, and I really think we do not give enough credit to our own track, and I only say that in spite of the delays and troubles that do occur. There is not another track that produces the class of riding. I will go so far as to say that a few southern riders get the very best bikes to ride, and as a consequence may shine out a little bit more, but under the same conditions I can say, without fear, that we have the best in the world – bar none – in Brisbane. I do not think that the English riders will ever come up to the standard of the Australian as he is brought up in a very normal country and he does not bring out the extra dash so conspicuous in the Australian. I really think that the English rider has it in him, but practically from childhood the Australian is a dare-devil. “Before we left Australia the riders would take their places in the pits at Davies Park and would have very little to say to one another, if anything; they would just watch one another. But in England they were all pals, one helping the other, always smiling, and up to some devilment, with everyone in it. But, of course, the only time we got together was for half an hour before the racing started. “I almost forgot to mention the twilight. At one period we went through two or three programmes, finishing up around 10.30 p.m. and never had a light on, which no doubt has a great effect on the sport, as the noise and light are part and parcel of the business. “The tracks on which we rode were West Ham, Stamford Bridge, High Beech, Crystal Palace, Wimbledon, Harringay, White City, Manchester, and Birmingham. I never rode on the Birmingham track, although I have often times been there, but it must be pretty bad when I tell you that Ben Unwin, who does not knock a machine about in any undue manner, broke three back axles in three nights of racing. I remember at Wimbledon on one occasion, when just completing a race, I ripped every spoke out of my back wheel. I borrowed Ben Unwin’s wheel for the semi-final and did likewise. I then borrowed another one off Tommy Croombs, and I was actually frightened to turn it on for fear I would wreck his wheel. These little incidents give you some idea of how really rough the tracks were. They were composed of cinders and clinker, and at the commencement of a meeting the track would be perfect, but being so long, with such sharp corners, the back wheel would drive in and make furrows about 8 inches deep, which would gradually increase to about 12 inches. If you were lucky and managed to get into one and stay in it you could get round without any trouble, but nine out of ten would not be lucky enough to do this and their back wheel would draw them into a slide which would bank them up against a furrow, such as a fence or wall might be. As a consequence, a frame would be twisted, the back wheel collapse, a chain roll off or some such thing which would put a man out of the race, although his riding might be excellent. One of the most improved riders whom I knew was Noel Johnson, and although he did not do it on Davies Park, he became a veritable madman and would just flatten his motor out like one thing, get into some fearful skids, and for two laps would get out of them, but eventually he would part company with his machine. Whilst I was there he was never hurt. His method of riding, which was so like Billy Lamont’s in Brisbane, made him extremely popular, and when I left he was one of Hunting’s best draw-cards, but using the methods he did prevented him from making any profits whatever, as his machines suffered to such an extent that his expenses would eat up all his money. “After about three months’ stay the boys had worked themselves into the factories to such an extent that a few of them were getting specially tuned jobs, and immediately this took place they began to come into their own. Vic Huxley, Dicky Smythe and Charlie Spinks were, perhaps, the most unfortunate ones in this respect as they were getting a lot of boom, but were not putting up the performances wholly and solely due to the fact that their machines were not fast enough. Sprouts Elder had established himself in a factory prior to the ban being placed on us, and with the reputation he had made was in the fortunate position of being able to get machines that he wanted. As a matter of fact, in match races he just sat behind any of our boys he was racing against and beat them in the last straight with the terrific speed he had in his motor. However, all the boys did eventually get in, and he did not while I was there beat either Vic Huxley or Dicky Smythe on any occasion after they got into the factories. The boys were far too clever for him in cornering. From that time the boys began to come into their own; unfortunately it was late in the season and the big money was gone. This explains the reason why so little was heard of them.” Frank Pearce arrived back in Brisbane on the evening of November 9, 1928. Shortly after, he set about putting his memories of the trip to England onto paper.

Norman Pritchard. He made a significant contribution to English speedway during the period 1928 to 1938.
Norman Henry Pritchard was the editor of the news and programme publication Speedway News during the first season of racing at Brisbane's Davies Park in 1927-28. His diligent work in this position resulted in his being present on the Oronsay as one of the official party accompanying A. J. Hunting's riders to England in 1928. Pritchard was appointed editor of International Speedways Limited's publication Speedway News in England in 1928, a post he held with distinction for a number of years. In 1933 Pritchard was appointed General Manager of Wimbledon Speedway when a new company took over the running of the track. He held this post until he returned to Australia after the 1938 season. Australians who appeared for the Wimbledon club during Pritchard's time there included Vic Huxley, Jack Sharp and Eric Collins. While in England Pritchard also served as team manager for some of Australia's pre-war Test teams. Thanks to the Pritchard family for permission to use the photo of Norman.

The Oronsay. Thanks to Mike Brightman for the Oronsay photograph.
The original Oronsay, on which the group of Australian speedway riders and officials traveled to England in 1928, was lost during the Second World War. An account of the sinking of the ship can be viewed at the following link: - http://www.bbc.co.uk/ww2peopleswar/stories/22/a1280422.shtml Another liner bearing the name "Oronsay" was built after the war. In April of 2007 a unique item was auctioned on eBay. This was a photograph of the original Oronsay which featured the autographs of speedway riders and officials who sailed to England on that ship in 1928. Among the signatures were those of Vic Huxley, Frank Arthur, Noel Johnson, Charlie Spinks, Frank Pearce, Jack Bishop, Hilary Buchanan, Dick Smythe, Frank Hunting and Norman Pritchard. The successful bidder paid just over 100 English pounds for this rare item.
Thanks to Ross Garrigan for the above story