BBS (before betting shops) I worked in the 'credit office' owned by Albert Cook and Son. Manning one of the eight phones, I took the client's bets and later worked them out, along with nine other members of the office.
Recently Google told me that this old building was now a newsagents. I telephoned them and learned that when Albert Cook senior died they bought the premises from his estate. I felt sad about this as I'd hope the business was still operating under Albert Cook junior. However, I asked the lady on the phone if she knew how I could contact young Mr. Cook only to learn that he too had died. I was really sad now.
This kind lady then said she could give me the phone number of his son, whom I'd met a few times when he was a schoolboy. So I managed to speak to him on the telephone. He told me his Dad had died a few years ago of a stomach problem. I asked if I could phone his Mum but he just said that she lives alone in Bournemouth, declining my request for the phone number. I quite understood and said cheerio to him.
This all reminded me of a day way back in 1960-ish when the 'Sausage Incident' occurred, involving the now deceased Mr. Cook senior (my boss) and his son, now deceased. I wish now that I'd not felt the urge to backtrack to those days but that's life. The link to the 1960 incident is below.
http://bit.ly/1bv0mrW
I no longer eat sausages, unless they're veggie ones.
Showing posts with label Alby Cook. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Alby Cook. Show all posts
Tuesday, 5 May 2015
Friday, 13 March 2015
The Voice of Racing
I've just been listening to Sir Peter O'Sullivan on BBC radio 4 and so many memories came flooding back.
You may not know this chap but he is still known in horse-racing circles as 'The Voice of Racing'. He celebrated his 97th birthday a few days ago and to listen to him on the radio again was marvellous.
He was born in 1918, in Ireland, and became the BBC's best ever racing commentator. I think the then Queen Mother loved him just as much as she loved having a punt on the races. He was everybody's favourite.
You could hear every word he uttered when calling the race. The noise of the crowds and the excitement of the race never affected his commentary. He also owned some classy horses, one of which was Be Friendly. Attivo was another top class thoroughbred.
Peter O'Sullivan also was the racing correspondent of the Daily Express for many years and tipped many winners for his followers.
I 'knew' him, so to speak, when I worked in the bookie business, from 1956 to around the early 1970s. I first spoke to him when I was working for Albert Cook & Son, turf accountants, at 801 Wandsworth Road, London in the early 1960s. He had an account with us.
One morning I picked up the phone on my desk and this mellifluous voice said to me: "Good morning. Would you please ask Albert (my boss) what is the best price he can offer me on Gay Don in the National." (Gay Don is not the real name of the horse, I cannot remember this far back).
I then asked my boss, saying it was Peter O'Sullivan asking for the price.
The boss scanned the Sporting Life lists to see what the average price was. He said to me that if Peter was interested then he must have some inside info on this horse. The price the boss came up with was 33-1 and said so to Peter O'Sullivan.
"Is that the very BEST price he can offer?" asks Peter.
I relayed this question to the boss. He then said 'Oh well, tell him 40-1 is the absolute tops', which I duly gave to Peter.
I heard quite a hearty chuckle on the end of the phone line then Peter said: "Well, thank Albert for his very generous offer but tell him I shall NOT be wanting to back Gay Don at this price. He died yesterday!" and then he put the phone down.
What a great sense of humour he had, and still has I reckon.
Happy 97th Sir Peter, and when you get to the 100th, which I am sure you will, I will send you a VERY HAPPY BIRTHDAY message then.
I enjoyed a lot of my time in the bookie world. One met so many notable people, good and not so good. Sir Peter was the best of all. Ronnie and Reggie Kray were way down the list, having met these two notorious guys on more than one occasion, each time in a friendly way I'm glad to say. The racing world is full of larger than life characters.
Here's a link to an example of Sir Peter's professionalism as he commentated on a race in which his own horse, Be Friendly, was running. He gives a clear and unbiased account of the race and is typical of this great man's skill in calling the race.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NuZNtwyxnz4
You may not know this chap but he is still known in horse-racing circles as 'The Voice of Racing'. He celebrated his 97th birthday a few days ago and to listen to him on the radio again was marvellous.
He was born in 1918, in Ireland, and became the BBC's best ever racing commentator. I think the then Queen Mother loved him just as much as she loved having a punt on the races. He was everybody's favourite.
You could hear every word he uttered when calling the race. The noise of the crowds and the excitement of the race never affected his commentary. He also owned some classy horses, one of which was Be Friendly. Attivo was another top class thoroughbred.
Peter O'Sullivan also was the racing correspondent of the Daily Express for many years and tipped many winners for his followers.
I 'knew' him, so to speak, when I worked in the bookie business, from 1956 to around the early 1970s. I first spoke to him when I was working for Albert Cook & Son, turf accountants, at 801 Wandsworth Road, London in the early 1960s. He had an account with us.
One morning I picked up the phone on my desk and this mellifluous voice said to me: "Good morning. Would you please ask Albert (my boss) what is the best price he can offer me on Gay Don in the National." (Gay Don is not the real name of the horse, I cannot remember this far back).
I then asked my boss, saying it was Peter O'Sullivan asking for the price.
The boss scanned the Sporting Life lists to see what the average price was. He said to me that if Peter was interested then he must have some inside info on this horse. The price the boss came up with was 33-1 and said so to Peter O'Sullivan.
"Is that the very BEST price he can offer?" asks Peter.
I relayed this question to the boss. He then said 'Oh well, tell him 40-1 is the absolute tops', which I duly gave to Peter.
I heard quite a hearty chuckle on the end of the phone line then Peter said: "Well, thank Albert for his very generous offer but tell him I shall NOT be wanting to back Gay Don at this price. He died yesterday!" and then he put the phone down.
What a great sense of humour he had, and still has I reckon.
Happy 97th Sir Peter, and when you get to the 100th, which I am sure you will, I will send you a VERY HAPPY BIRTHDAY message then.
I enjoyed a lot of my time in the bookie world. One met so many notable people, good and not so good. Sir Peter was the best of all. Ronnie and Reggie Kray were way down the list, having met these two notorious guys on more than one occasion, each time in a friendly way I'm glad to say. The racing world is full of larger than life characters.
Here's a link to an example of Sir Peter's professionalism as he commentated on a race in which his own horse, Be Friendly, was running. He gives a clear and unbiased account of the race and is typical of this great man's skill in calling the race.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NuZNtwyxnz4
Saturday, 20 June 2009
Who Ate My Sausages?
Just before I switched to working in betting shops I worked for Albert Cook & Son. The office was in 801 Wandsworth Road in London. The 'guvnor' was quite a card in many ways. He was a member of The Magic Circle. Specialised in card tricks. Would never play poker with him; you'd lose!
He told me how he started bookmaking back in the 1940s. First he was a 'runner' for a local bookie. He said:
"I noticed that I always collected more money than I ever paid out to my customers. I decided to be a bookie and hang on to the bets I'd been taking and handing over to the local bookie."
"I had a rule book printed. Just a few pages saying what my 'limits' were. Every bookie had 'limits' as to how much a punter could win in those days."
He went on to say that his limits for a winning double was 12-1, 25-1 for a treble and 50-1 for an accumulator. Most punters stuck to having small win or each way singles but if a punter had a winning double they would never win more than 12-1.
He continued: "Because I wasn't too well-educated I had difficulty in reading. For a few weeks if a punter had a winning double I would pay him 12-1, whatever the starting price odds of each horse were!"
"A friend of mine pointed out the error of my ways. He said that some punters were laughing at me for paying out 12-1 when they were due much less than that."
"I thought quickly and replied: 'Yes, I know, but they'll always come back to me for their next bet!'..."
Albert Cook prospered in the bookie business, but he never made this mistake again.
One evening I was on duty until 7 p.m. which was to take a few greyhound bets from those clients who followed that sport. One of them was a butcher, from the Lavender Hill Road area. He called at the office at about 6.30 p.m. to pay his outstanding account. He was in high spirits. Apparently he'd just won the prestigious "Best Sausage" competition. I congratulated him.
"Tell you what Phil, I'll drop a couple of pounds in for you tomorrow evening. Let me know what you think of them." I thanked him and he left.
I finished work at 5 p.m. next day; young Alby Cook was doing the greyhound duty that evening. On the following morning I was having a cup of tea at about 11 a.m. when I remembered about the sausages.
Looked in the kitchen fridge; no sign of them. Back in the office I said: "Did Butch leave some of his prize sausages for me yesterday evening?"
One voice spoke; it was the boss's son, Albert Cook Jnr. "Oh, were they for you? Butch just rang the bell and just 'here's the sausages..' and he left."
I said: "So what's happened to them Alby?"
"Err, well I just took them home and..." he stammered. He obviously knew they were not left for him. I was quite annoyed. Alby was quite well-off financially and I'm certain Butch would have said that he'd left them for me.
"Well thanks a bunch Alby. Hope you enjoyed them!" And I said no more, mainly because Albert Cook Snr was listening to all this and was keeping very quiet. I felt sure he was most embarrassed by this verbal exchange.
I arrived home at about 6.30 p.m. I lived in Brighton Road, Purley, at the time. My wife, Pat, opened the door as she'd been waiting for me and I soon knew why.
She said excitedly: "Look what's arrived this afternoon!" In the living room was a large wicker hamper, choc-a-bloc full of expensive foodstuffs. It had arrived by van from Fortnum and Masons, one of London's most famous grocers and deli shops. There was a note included, from Albert Cook.
He wrote how ashamed he'd felt about his son purloining "my" sausages. I now felt extremely embarrassed myself; Albert Senior was a decent and proud chap. I was quite sad that I'd blurted out about the sausages earlier that day.
My wife had no idea as to how this had all come about. I explained it to her; she said it was nothing for me to feel ashamed about. However, she did not have to go in the office next day!
I had a quiet word with the boss next day and apologised for causing his embarrassment. He said it was not my fault and he just had to try to make amend for his son's behaviour. He asked me not to mention the hamper to anybody in the office and I never did.
The saga of the sausages was thus closed. No hard feelings. Life trundled on.
He told me how he started bookmaking back in the 1940s. First he was a 'runner' for a local bookie. He said:
"I noticed that I always collected more money than I ever paid out to my customers. I decided to be a bookie and hang on to the bets I'd been taking and handing over to the local bookie."
"I had a rule book printed. Just a few pages saying what my 'limits' were. Every bookie had 'limits' as to how much a punter could win in those days."
He went on to say that his limits for a winning double was 12-1, 25-1 for a treble and 50-1 for an accumulator. Most punters stuck to having small win or each way singles but if a punter had a winning double they would never win more than 12-1.
He continued: "Because I wasn't too well-educated I had difficulty in reading. For a few weeks if a punter had a winning double I would pay him 12-1, whatever the starting price odds of each horse were!"
"A friend of mine pointed out the error of my ways. He said that some punters were laughing at me for paying out 12-1 when they were due much less than that."
"I thought quickly and replied: 'Yes, I know, but they'll always come back to me for their next bet!'..."
Albert Cook prospered in the bookie business, but he never made this mistake again.
One evening I was on duty until 7 p.m. which was to take a few greyhound bets from those clients who followed that sport. One of them was a butcher, from the Lavender Hill Road area. He called at the office at about 6.30 p.m. to pay his outstanding account. He was in high spirits. Apparently he'd just won the prestigious "Best Sausage" competition. I congratulated him.
"Tell you what Phil, I'll drop a couple of pounds in for you tomorrow evening. Let me know what you think of them." I thanked him and he left.
I finished work at 5 p.m. next day; young Alby Cook was doing the greyhound duty that evening. On the following morning I was having a cup of tea at about 11 a.m. when I remembered about the sausages.
Looked in the kitchen fridge; no sign of them. Back in the office I said: "Did Butch leave some of his prize sausages for me yesterday evening?"
One voice spoke; it was the boss's son, Albert Cook Jnr. "Oh, were they for you? Butch just rang the bell and just 'here's the sausages..' and he left."
I said: "So what's happened to them Alby?"
"Err, well I just took them home and..." he stammered. He obviously knew they were not left for him. I was quite annoyed. Alby was quite well-off financially and I'm certain Butch would have said that he'd left them for me.
"Well thanks a bunch Alby. Hope you enjoyed them!" And I said no more, mainly because Albert Cook Snr was listening to all this and was keeping very quiet. I felt sure he was most embarrassed by this verbal exchange.
I arrived home at about 6.30 p.m. I lived in Brighton Road, Purley, at the time. My wife, Pat, opened the door as she'd been waiting for me and I soon knew why.
She said excitedly: "Look what's arrived this afternoon!" In the living room was a large wicker hamper, choc-a-bloc full of expensive foodstuffs. It had arrived by van from Fortnum and Masons, one of London's most famous grocers and deli shops. There was a note included, from Albert Cook.
He wrote how ashamed he'd felt about his son purloining "my" sausages. I now felt extremely embarrassed myself; Albert Senior was a decent and proud chap. I was quite sad that I'd blurted out about the sausages earlier that day.
My wife had no idea as to how this had all come about. I explained it to her; she said it was nothing for me to feel ashamed about. However, she did not have to go in the office next day!
I had a quiet word with the boss next day and apologised for causing his embarrassment. He said it was not my fault and he just had to try to make amend for his son's behaviour. He asked me not to mention the hamper to anybody in the office and I never did.
The saga of the sausages was thus closed. No hard feelings. Life trundled on.
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