A Lavendon Connection with ‘Grudon’, winner of the 1901 Grand National

 

 

In June 1983 the late Claude Horwood wrote an account of local Lavendon people and activities, set out under the title “Lavendon Past and Present – The Inside Story”.  

 

In this first extract from his reminiscences, Claude Horwood explains the odd connection between a Lavendon family and an unusual outcome to the 1901 Grand National.

“The village has a curious link with the turf through the Bletsoe family, who lived in Olney Road. The Bletsoes have been known throughout the County of Northampton in connection with racing. In 1901, Mr Bernard Bletsoe had a horse, named Grudon, in the Grand National. On the day of the race, there was a blinding snowstorm. Almost everyone, trainers, owners, jockeys, and spectators took it for granted that the race would be cancelled. However, after some delay, the stewards ruled that the race would take place. Bernard Bletsoe had the inspiration of a life-time. He sent to the refreshment rooms for a quantity of butter, and packed it tightly into Grudon’s hoofs. 

"The jockey, Arthur Nightingall did not have a high opinion of Grudon, but immediately the race was started, he was confident of success. Other horses were slithering about with balls of snow on their hooves. Grudon was sure-footed. So confident was Nightingall about the success of Mr Bletsoe’s manoeuvre that he allowed the horse to quietly trot beside Covert Hack, ridden by Archie Anthony, and engaged in conversation with Anthony.  Surely this must have been the only race ever in which two jockeys had a quiet chat! Half a mile from the finish, NIghtingall said, “Well, I must be going now so ta ta,” and merely shot off, and disappeared into the blizzard. All the other horses were tremendously slowed down, and Grudon won by over four lengths. The second was Drumcree. Grudon was priced at 9-1. The four horse shoes were given to four branches of the family. The Lavendon one was stolen from outside Mr Bletsoe’s house in Olney Road.

 

“On March 25^th, 1958, Sporting Life had a full page article written by Mr Frank Woods, about this most extraordinary race. The article had bold banner headlines, “Snow Storm Could Not Stop Grudon. Bletsoe’s Butter Brain Wave Kept Him Sure-footed.”

 

“A Spectator at the race has described how Bletsoe ran out to hug the huge horse; and how the horse’s breath made a “Hole” in the snow.

 

“At the time of this incident, Mildred Bletsoe was nineteen, and she used Grudon for her private riding. Fifty-seven years later, she said that Grudon had “the sweetest disposition of any horse she had known”.

 

“‘Grudon’ is the old spelling of ‘Grendon’.”

Interestingly, the story set out above by Claude Horwood corresponds closely to that told by Grudon’s jockey, Arthur Nightingall, who later wrote a book* detailing his racing adventures. His book gives some interesting insights into the racing world in general and the 1901 Grand National in particular. Some extracts about the latter are worthy of inclusion here, beginning with the decision to start the 1901 race despite the appalling weather conditions  prevailing at the time:

“I shall certainly never forget whilst Memory holds her sway that wonderful race for the Grand National which I won on "Grudon" in 1901. Nothing like it had ever been seen. One of its extraordinary features was that it was run in a snowstorm; all the fences were perfectly white in their covering of snow; the course was similarly decorated, and the general outlook was most unpromising. Was it possible for horses to gallop at top speed under those conditions with anything like safety over such a big country? Opinions differed as to that point, heads were shaken, and, as usual, those visitors who had not to do the riding did most of the talking: they saw no danger, having to take no risk. When men have ceased to perform in the saddle or have never appeared there — this is proverbial philosophy — no fences are too big for them, no country is too awkward, no feats impossible. It is a sort of ringing the changes after the money is gone. “

 

“Several of the jockeys engaged to ride in the chief race that day signed a petition to have it postponed on account of the tempestuous weather, and I was one of the heroes who affixed my signature to that historical document. Our counsels of prudence were ineffective. The stewards waited for about ten minutes, and then told us we had to go. Some of the ancient hunting men, who attend in large numbers at Aintree to see the "National," were vastly delighted. It reminded them, no doubt, of their own grand old days of derring-do when they rode after fox through snow and over tremendous obstacles just as though they had a spare neck in their pocket, and were not afraid to produce it in the nick of time.”

Above: Jockey Arthur Nightingall up on Grudon with Mr Bernard Bletsoe, owner.

“Seeing what the state of the going was, and grasping the situation at once, Mr Bletsoe made large purchases of butter on the spot just before the race, and stuffed "Grudon's" feet with that substance. It effectually prevented "balling." "Grudon" never put a foot wrong, never slipped, during the whole distance, although he was galloping through snow most of the time, and the general conditions were extremely tricky. The insertion of that butter as depicted was assuredly a stroke of genius. What we should have done without it I do not know; we might easily have come to grief at an early stage of the contest, and — and — this chapter might never have been written! Hence the fact is now revealed for the first time that a little butter once saved the world from a great loss. It is at such crises of her history that Britain's real heroes are discovered.

 

"My orders were to let "Grudon" run his own race as I found him going, and I lay well up with the leading division. I was always with the first two or three. Indeed, Archie Anthony, on "Covert Hack," and I enjoyed quite a long and animated conversation for some part of the journey; and it was with a feeling of regret that at last I was obliged to say good-bye to him about a mile from home. "Ta-ta, old chap," I murmured consolingly, "I must now push on a trifle faster, or the cupboard will be bare when I get there, and I wouldn't disappoint old Mother Hubbard for the world."

 

"He wished me luck, and I pushed forward accordingly, anxious (so to speak) to give the little dog a bone. In this case he was doing something to deserve it. The cry was still "for'ard on," with no chance for those who were stone-cold in the rear, and with no time to pick up the pieces. It was an old story — the fox in the next parish and hounds in the next field.

 

"Galloping on like a lion and jumping like a stag, "Grudon" went to the front as soon as he was wanted; and he remained there. He was never at fault for a moment. The only mistake he made was about 200 yards from the winning post, with his race well won, when he jumped a footpath across the course and gave me a bit of a shock. "To be wrecked now," I thought, "just in sight of land, with a toe almost on shore — it would be too terrible for words."

 

"And I was glad that there were no more footpaths to be jumped as though they were swollen torrents. Afterwards all was plain sailing. We won comfortably, as history records, and neither of us was greatly distressed.”

* "My Racing Adventures" by Arthur Nightingall, edited By "G.G." (H.G. Harper) and published by T. Werner Laurie, Clifford's Inn, London. The book is undated but was probably published in the early part of the 20^th century.

NBS: 20 March 2010