Jericho Cup: A race born from history

Everybody loves a good story.

And if it’s a true tale, outstripping fiction, of the deeds of people – or horses – it’s even better.

Some 10 years ago, Melbourne businessman and racing enthusiast Bill Gibbins was gifted a book. Its story centred on the Light Horse brigade in the Middle East in World War I, paying particular mind to an unbelievably brave and tough gelding. The book had the same title as the horse, using the name that typified the irreverent humour of the ANZACs: Bill The Bastard.

Bill – Gibbins, not the horse – did what most of us do. He declared he’d read it, and sat it on his bedside table. Six months later, it still hadn’t been touched. Finally, prodded by its provider, an abashed Gibbins opened it up.

“It just hooked me from page one,” he says. “What an amazing story!”

The book, by Roland Perry (chronicler of other Australian titans including Don Bradman and army commanders John Monash and Harry Chauvel) focused on the horse whose headstrong ways spawned a nickname weaving disdain and respect at once.

Standing 17 hands, remarkably large among the walers that bore the light horsemen, Bill The Bastard served at Gallipoli, where one of his tasks was to carry the body of war hero John Simpson, of Simpson’s Donkey fame, from the battlefield.

Bill later carried four Tasmanian soldiers to safety at once at the Battle of Romani, in Egypt in 1916. And he played a starring role in one of the greatest yarns of the conflict, the memory of which is, thanks to Gibbins, kept vividly alive today.

Late in the war in September 1918, as Allied forces sought to finally crush their Ottoman foes, Light Horse commander Chauvel planned a major offensive to break through the enemy’s defences near the Palestine coast, ride north and defeat two of
their armies.

As some 34,000 light horsemen and their mounts gathered under the cover of the orange groves of Jaffa, Chauvel needed the enemy to suspect nothing was afoot. To make them believe most troops and horses were far from that critical region, a ruse was planned that was so quintessentially ANZAC you couldn’t make it up.

A race meeting! In the middle of the desert! Ostensibly a morale-building recreational exercise for battle-weary troops, it would look like the real deal. Five races would be held, there’d be clerks of the course, stewards, authentic-looking racebooks, and of course bookmakers. To make it seem even more fair dinkum, like the Turks themselves, none of the ANZAC soldiers in attendance knew it was staged as a decoy tactic. And, lending more authenticity, there was plentiful beer and, consequently, the occasional punch-up.

As the bemused Turks watched from a distance, the meeting played out before some 10,000 spectators: 5,000 British and Indian soldiers, 1,000 ANZACs not required in Jaffa, and 4,000 bribed locals.

The feature would be a three-mile (4800m) event. After various names were suggested – the Cairo Cup, and even an amalgam of Palestine and Melbourne contriving the Palbourne Cup – the event
was titled the Jericho Cup, partly so the Turks would know roughly where it would take place.

After a torrid battle across the desert sands, and stones, the Jericho Cup was won, of course, by Bill The Bastard. The ruse worked exquisitely. The troop build-up at Jaffa continued unfettered, leading to that last, famous, triumphant drive north of the Light Horse. Bill,  eventually died in 1924 aged 21, and was returned to Gallipoli where his headstone can still be found, at Walker’s Ridge.

The tale moved and inspired Gibbins. The trucking industry heavyweight had led community events before. In 1988, he organised the Two Ton Run, a charity relay footrace around Port Phillip Bay for Australia’s bicentenary. He reprised it in 1992, raising money for the country’s Olympians heading to Barcelona. In June 2021, Gibbins was awarded the Member of the Order of Australia in the Queen’s Birthday Honours for his support for people with disabilities, philanthropic generosity and significant service to horse racing.

This was due to his role in the Jericho Cup, which, in 2015, he decided he’d like to revive. He wanted to make it a three-mile event just for ANZAC-bred (Australia and New Zealand) horses.

“I thought, ‘Someone’s got to do it’. It’s such a good story,” the now 77-year-old says. After a couple of briefly-pursued ideas, involving Flemington and Ballarat, the perfect setting for his vision was found: Warrnambool.

It already hosted a famed race of quite some length – the 5500m Grand Annual Steeplechase. With a little tweaking, and of course the removal of the jumps, the Jericho Cup could be held on roughly the same course, starting clockwise, extending off the course proper through neighbouring paddocks and, after a right turn on lap two, ending the Melbourne way.

Because of starting stall positioning, while it was the longest flat race in the land, it wouldn’t quite match the 1918 feature’s distance, coming in at 4600m.

But since its first edition a neat century after the original, it has grown to carve a cherished niche amongst the turf folklore of this nation, with a strong New Zealand flavour as well.

Manifesting Gibbins’ wide-reaching, inclusive vision, the field for the Jericho Cup, which is a benchmark 90 event held on the fourth Sunday after the Melbourne Cup, is drawn from across the two nations.

Ten staying events guarantee their winners a start. This includes eight in Australia and two in New Zealand, with points towards a starting berth awarded to the first three Australasian-breds home. These begin with the Jericho Cup Consolation, and include contests from Albany to Riccarton, Mt Gambier to Gawler, and Wagga to Beaudesert.

Aspirants can also earn points in any TAB-covered Australasian race of 3000m or more, which encompasses some 20 events.

“People laughed at first and said, ‘You won’t get a field. It’s Australasian-bred horses only’,” Gibbins says. “I said, ‘I won’t say how high quality it’ll be, but we’ll get a field alright’.”

Which evokes what the Jericho Cup has come to mean. If you want blue bloods, watch a Cox Plate. If you want a wonderfully conceived, poignantly executed tribute to the men of the Light Horse, around which their descendants can converge each year and remember, go watch the delicious battlers’ banquet held each early summer at Warrnambool, 13,500km from Jericho.

After six editions, growing crowds and increasing renown, Gibbins is justifiably proud.

“It just keeps feeding off itself. Each year it gets stronger and better,” says Gibbins, who put up the $300,000 prizemoney himself for the first four editions, before Racing Victoria stepped in.

“The field are no champions, but they’ve got the guts and determination of bush horses, which sums up what the Light Horse walers were all about.”

Augmenting the equine slog are the commemorations of the light horsemen, and their sacrifices, which have drawn tears from many a hardened racing participant, descendants or not.

“I think it just captures the imagination, with all the history,” Gibbins says. “With 25,000 light horsemen in the first World War, one in 50 modern Australians have a direct link to them as descendants. But when I talk to people in racing, it’s more like about one in five.

“It stands to reason. They were horse people 100 years ago, and those families are still in horses now.

“I get emotional hearing Advance Australia Fair at the footy. And what happens at the Jericho Cup is very similar, just the feeling you
get about it. It’s unbelievable.”

The Jericho Cup now has a legion of zealous devotees, including Warrnambool trainer Symon Wilde, who won its third edition in 2020 with the Kiwi-bred Count Zero.

“It’s just a wonderful concept, with real meaning,” he says. “As opposed to some of the pop-up money races, this has got real history attached to it. We’re honouring people in our history with the race.
“Bill Gibbins had the foresight to create it and stick to its values, and he’s got to be commended. I remember there were people who didn’t see how it could work, but it’s grown and grown.

“You can go as a family and be really interested. They display the waler horses, have people dressed up as Light Horsemen, recounting some of the stories. ANZAC Day meetings have some commemorations, but this is on another level.

“It attracts horses from all states and New Zealand. It’s just brilliant. Once you come along once, you’ll say, ‘I’m locking this in, year
after year’.”