From the early 1700s to the early
1900s, horseracing reigned over English sport. Organized English horseracing
(known as “the Turf”) took shape in the 1600s, and the sport grew in popularity
and regulation. Seen as the “Sport of Kings”, the Gaming Act of 1739 tried to
restrict participation in the sport to the aristocracy. High entrance fees kept the riff-raff from
competing, and enforcing prize purses of £50 or more should have killed smaller
illegal tracks. In reality, the act proliferated illegal horse races. As
Victorian England’s enthusiasm for horseracing grew, so too did their enthusiasm
for betting on horse races. Faced with a national pastime, the Gaming Act of
1845 and the Betting Act of 1853 kept gambling at racetracks within the law.
Freed from the hypocritical
facades of golden halls and the seedy backrooms of copper hells, gambling
racketeers publicly ply their trade at Ascot, Epsom, and other racing towns.
During a race day, a haphazard city of tents and booths surround every track in
England. Enthusiasts arrive early to play Hazard, Roulette, Faro, and simple
games of chance and return to play between races. Most of these temporary
gambling dens stay open all day and all night. Although racetracks charge
exorbitantly high rent on their grounds during racing season, purveyors of
table games rake in a bundle in the carnival atmosphere of a race day. In fact,
some smaller racetracks would close if they lost this revenue and the customers
attracted by on track gambling. The bosses of the most notorious copper hells
leave London for race weekends in the country. In their dishevel booths, they
rob ten or twenty customers an hour with crooked games and return home weighted
with disreputable riches.
Of course, the government did not
legalize gambling at racetracks as a courtesy to table games and cardsharps, but
for wagers over horseracing. At the track, bookmakers busily give odds for
upcoming races and make hundreds of wagers at all hours of the day. Most won’t
accept any bets under half a crown. Fake bookmakers stalk raceways stealing
from inexperienced tourists. They take a bet, pocket the stakes, and disappear
into the crowd.
While hordes of lower-class
gamblers flock to bookmakers at racetracks, the rich prefer to make their bets
in more refined and exclusive circumstances. The most famous betting parlor is
Tattersalls in London. Tattersalls is
not a gentleman’s club, nor a gambling hall, but the premier racehorse auction
house in England frequented by a select group of aristocratic gamblers intent
on organized and respectable betting on the Turf. Its members belong to all levels
of society. Race enthusiasts, horse breeders, jockeys, grooms, and gamblers all
rub shoulders at Tattersalls. For a monthly subscription of £3 3s, persons accepted by
the election committee receive access to club bookmakers, Tattersall’s drinking
room (the “Turf Tap”), the ability to place bets months before a race starts,
and the insider knowledge of fellow members.
Cheating in horseracing is as old
as the Turf itself, and the number of moving parts involved in a large race
leaves many gaps for deceitful knavery. Thugs harm, hobble, or dope horses to
muck up their performance on the track. In more “informal” races, large dogs
trained to attack certain horses pull favorites out of the running. Even in
regulated racing, owners enter horses too young or too old for certain races
with falsified papers. In one case a horse named Leander was suspected of being
a year too old to compete, but it died before officials could examine its teeth
for age. When officials exhumed the carcass they found someone had already dug
Leander up and stolen its head. The Jockey Club barred Leander’s owners from
future races.