Thinking of Mungo Park

By Ian Carnaby

Ignorance is a frightening thing. I did not know, for example, that Mungo Park was a famous 18th century Scottish explorer and the first European to reach the Niger River.

Obviously I knew Mungo Park the rascally sprinter who managed to win eight of his 95 races but took great delight in his later years in refusing to put his head in front on the line. One of his early successes came at the expense of Double Oscar, old Mungo no doubt resenting the idea that anyone could act better than he. Well, he was spot-on there. For a while I thought he could only win for Jack and Lynda Ramsden, original thinkers in their own right, especially Jack, but he also obliged for Michael Dods in Darlington - working his way back to Scotland, no doubt.

His breeding puzzled me for a while because he was by Selkirk, a champion miler in his day and one of my favourite horses. Selkirk was pretty good, even before they discovered he had a trapped testicle. Once it was released, he was quite brilliant. I think we can all understand that. Anyway, I discovered recently that Mungo Park the explorer was born in Selkirk, so everything fell into place.

Just on the subject of place names, I see that Mick Channon has a new two-year old called Archers Road. This has nothing to do with bows and arrows or the well-known author and fantasist. It refers, of course, to the Archers Road end at The Dell, where Southampton scored half of their goals in the memorable 6-3 win over Manchester United in 1996 and all of them in the 3-1 triumph over the same opponents the previous season. I only mention these things because they will not occur again in my lifetime or, indeed, the lifetime of my children.

It’s good to know Mick still has owners with Southampton connections. I may have mentioned Woolston Ferry before, the selling/claiming/consistent lower grade handicapper who will turn up now and then, though not necessarily when you back him. He was named after the old chain ferry, or ‘Floating Bridge’ between Southampton and Woolston. Gutta Percha and the Balladeers made a record, recently re-released on CD, telling the whole story.

The Lincoln has never been all that kind to me...

Archers Road may run on Lincoln Handicap day. I can’t say the Lincoln has been all that kind to me and I suffered when the great Bill Wightman, who trained for Mick in the old days, had several horses placed in it before King’s Ride finally obliged in 1980.

Ten years earlier he nearly had a nasty shock when Brookway finished third, at 100 to 1, behind New Chapter and the heavily-backed Prince de Galles. Brookway had become disappointing the previous year and Bill entered him for a seller (at Doncaster, funnily enough), which he won under Willie Carson at 33 to 1. Snapped up by an outside yard at the auction afterwards, he nearly caused one of the great upsets in the first big handicap of the year.

I don’t think I’d ever have found Southward Star at 33 to 1 in 1975, though I came to know winning jockey Richard Fox quite well afterwards. That was the year I was selling drink around Hounslow and Isleworth, though ‘selling’ is rather a grand term because it was all tied trade. It was more a question of taking the orders in Watney and Truman pubs and then talking about football and racing.

I am reminded of those days whenever I see an old Minder on ITV 4. In the Winchester club all the drinks came from International Distillers and Vintners, which must have cost us a bit, I suppose, but was undoubtedly worth it. There is Smirnoff on optic in the club and in empty cases in Arthur Daley’s lock-up. You’ll also see J & B Whisky, a scotch which sold modestly in this country but did extremely well around the world, especially in America, on account of its lighter colour.

J & B stands for Justerini and Brooks, the former being an impoverished Italian count who fell for a travelling English opera singer and followed her back to this country, though apparently without success. More or less broke, all he had was some old family recipes, which he sold to a chap called Alfred Brooks. Brooks did so well with them he was eventually able to diversify into wines and spirits. So, when you wander down St James’s and see the Justerini & Brooks shop, that’s the story.

I don’t know what happened to either of them, though I believe Brooks lived to a good age. Longer than poor old Mungo Park, anyway, who departed the scene at 35 when his boat hit a rock and the angry natives, obliged to combat muskets with primitive bows and arrows until then, started wading in. Weighing up the lesser of two evils in a trice, Mungo and his companions went over the side and the Niger claimed them.

Mungo Park the horse only lived until he was eight, so 95 trips to the races wasn’t bad. Mind you, he knew how to conserve his energy. He was the Matt Le Tissier of the equine world, and I liked him immensely.