Talk

International Polo Club Palm Beach President, John Wash, reflects on the strategy that helped the club, and the sport of polo, through the dark days of last spring

When I reflect on several very trying days in April when the International Polo Club Palm Beach was faced with the aftermath of the loss of the lives of 21 of the sport’s top equine athletes, I am comforted by the knowledge that we did everything possible to stick to the facts.

Following the three Cs of Credibility in Crisis – compassion, competence and confidence – and simple common sense, we weathered the immediate storm in one of the worst polo scenarios.

I knew from the moment I was informed of the situation that whatever IPC said or did could have a long-term effect on the future of polo. It was imperative to contain the situation to stop both public and media speculation running wild.

IPC already had a crisis management plan in place, and was prepared to deal with almost anything, but the incidents that unfolded during the week of 19 April tested everyone’s limits.

We simply told the truth, and told it with one voice. Delivery was critical to the welfare

of our organisation and our sport. The club was visited over the subsequent weeks by hundreds of TV, radio and newspaper representatives. Telephone calls poured in. Every enquiry was given time and attention, and was answered in one of three ways: ● We know the answer, and here is all the information we have. ● We don’t have all the information yet, but here is what we do know. ● We don’t know the answer to that question yet, but we will find out.

Obviously, during a tragedy of this magnitude, the media and public were most concerned that IPC would rectify issues that led to this disaster. I made the club’s position clear: that IPC was simply the polo venue; the horses weren’t boarded or fed on site; IPC provided the playing fields only.

Our position was that before reform could be implemented we needed all the answers. Once answers were given, IPC would assist in championing changes to benefit polo. Since we already had security, a police presence and a veterinarian contingency plan I felt that we were in good hands, initially, but we were forced to utilise every asset we could commandeer. The response from the polo community was impressive.

Instantly, volunteers stepped forward to help organise the blue tarpaulins that would shield the falling horses, and then another group organised trailers to remove the deceased animals. The caterer made available every bag of ice it had, in an effort to cool down the affected horses.

After some consideration, I rejected initial suggestions to cancel the event. I believed that such a response would only add fuel to speculation and have an adverse effect not only on IPC, but the sport of polo in general. I determined that the show must go on – and it did.

Taking the lead in meeting with the media, I made it quite clear that I would address all of their questions. There were no knee-jerk reactions, IPC didn’t shut down, I didn’t let other people’s actions dictate how we responded, and in the end this approach proved to be our biggest asset.

I arranged for several spokespeople from the polo community to meet with press representatives in an effort to convey the reality of the sport. That week a special media tent was erected to handle the international media coverage. Food, drink and hospitality were provided as they learned about IPC, the sport, the athletes and the love, care and respect of the polo ponies.

top: The club holds a memorial for the 21 horses left: John Wash

A made-to-measure, uniquely engraved set of shotguns, a collaboration of master craftsmen to produce a truly personal work of art, Arabella Dickie discovers

Just as a businessman covets a finely tailored suit, it is the dream of every keen shot to possess their very own made-tomeasure shotgun or rifle. Indeed, a bespoke gun’s fit is nothing short of perfect while its appearance boasts a uniqueness to which only the owner, who has specified every last detail, can lay claim.

For those who fantasise about pulling the trigger of their very own masterpiece, venerable London gunmakers Holland & Holland can bring this vision to life. The company prides itself on a combination of tradition and vision that they claim makes a Holland & Holland gun that most rare of creations: a work of art where the emphasis is balanced equally between the function of its design and the beauty of its aesthetics.

The result is a gun capable of handling high-performance cartridges and ammunition; a gun that will give reliable service to its owner and his heirs for generations; and a gun that will give unmatched pleasure all the while.

So how does the process of a bespoke creation begin? Every Holland & Holland

gun starts its life in the firm’s Mayfair showrooms. The client makes a number of choices based on their idea of what they actually want and the vision is conceived – on paper at least. Body measurements are the next step. Holland & Holland craftsmen work to tolerances of 1/16th of an inch – more accurate than a Savile Row tailor. The fitting done, the order is sent to the factory.

Here, the first parts of the gun to be given life are the barrels. Holland & Holland is unique in making all its barrels in house. Even the tubes are made entirely in their own machine shops, meaning that the customer’s requirements can be built in from the very first cut of steel.

Shortly after, attention is turned to the aesthetics. Choosing wood for the gun’s stock allows each customer’s personality to truly shine, for each stock blank varies

dramatically. Customers will normally already have a good idea, such as whether they prefer straighter flowing lines running through the stock or very elaborate figuring. Holland & Holland uses only Turkish walnut for its stocks. However, due to the cut of the wood and the effect of oiling it, colour can vary from almost yellow, through orange, reds, browns, almost to black. It then takes a month or two for the craftsman to build the exact measurements into the piece of wood.

One of the latest stages of the process – the purely decorative process of engraving – is undoubtedly the highlight for many imminent gun owners. In the past few decades the firearms industry has witnessed an increasing prominence given to the work of artist engravers, whose handicraft can even overshadow that of the gunmakers.

It is with the engraving that the client can let their true interests shine and the options are limited only by one’s imagination. Favourites include timeless patterns such as scrollwork and ribbon. More elaborate choices from the Kama Sutra to 1920s motorcars and portraits of family members have also been reproduced on the side of guns to breathtaking effect.

Another popular alternative among sporting-mad clients are ‘action’ shot engravings, taken from hunting or polo scenes. The guns featured in this article were commissioned 14 years ago by art dealer and racehorse owner Alec Wildenstein. They were a gift to his brother, Guy, a passionate horseman and organiser of the Diables Bleus polo team, which counted HRH Prince Charles among its members.

After action photographs had been selected and worked up as designs, Belgian master engraver Philippe Grifnée set to work. Grifnée graduated from the school of engraving in Liège, Belgium in 1970 after studying under renowned engraver René Delcour. His exquisite work is highly sought after among gunmakers and collectors worldwide, and has been honoured by the Belgian government.

Although work of this sort attracts much interest, around 90 per cent of Holland & Holland commissions follow a more traditional and conservative format – often to safeguard future resale values.

Then again, when you’re the proud owner of a shiny new shooter that has been 18 months or more in the making, it’s unlikely that the prospect of resale is at the forefront of your mind.

One of the trio of guns commissioned by the late Alec Wildenstein for his polo-loving brother Guy

The guns were a surprise gift from my brother, Alec, for my 50th birthday. We were shooting at Castle Hill in Devon – the estate of Lord and Lady Arran – and, as we arrived, they were waiting in the gunroom.

My brother has unfortunately passed away but I believe he chose Holland & Holland because they have the skilled craftsmen to perform this kind of engraving.

In driven shoots and at Castle Hill in particular there are lots of birds and very high birds, often just out of reach. Just as my brother did, I prefer the more challenging shots. As a result you get through a lot of cartridges, so having three guns is a safety precaution.

The images are action shots of me during a polo game. My wife lent Alec my polo albums and he made the choice from them.

Polo was my passion for 32 years and my brother knew that 50 was the age I had decided to retire.

When I started playing, I shared a team with Baron Elie de Rothschild and his son, my lifelong friend Nathaniel. Elie retired at 50 after losing an eye in a practice match. He told me later that after 50 one loses one’s reflexes and the game becomes too dangerous. He often joked about it, saying to me that one can be a blind banker but it’s impossible to be a blind art dealer. His advice stayed with me and when the time came, I made this difficult decision.

From my long career in polo, my fondest memories are my horses. I can remember each and every one of them, especially the good ones: Bolita, whom I got in 1966 from Alberto-Pedro Hegui; Bypass, whom I bought from Memo Gracida; and, of course, Everest – an extraordinary horse given to me by my father from his racing stable.

With the death of the Rajamata Devi Of Jaipur on 27 July, the polo world lost its longest standing and best-loved follower, says Patrick Beresford

Born in 1919, a younger daughter of the Maharaja of Cooch Bohar, she had been affectionately nicknamed “Ayesha” after the heroine of the then-popular H Rider Haggard novel, Ayesha, the Return of She, whose qualities of great beauty and steely determination, even in childhood, she so obviously shared.

The death of her father in 1922 propelled her mother, already proclaimed ‘the most beautiful woman in the world’ by Vogue magazine, into early widowhood. But not for her the traditional purdah, she was far too independent a spirit for that, and in 1927 took the children to school in England. A brilliant horsewoman and an intrepid gambler, in the winter months her base was Melton Mowbray – then the playground be known as 1st Her Highness and 2nd Her Highness. Meanwhile Ayesha had enrolled in the Monkey Club Finishing School in London and, to her total, disbelief Jai began taking her to parties and nightclubs. It was a fairytale romance, and despite some opposition from both families, they were married with full ceremonial honours in Cooch Behar in 1940.

After the Second World War, the British Government despatched Lord Mountbatten to Delhi to supervise the handover of power to an independent India. This also signalled the end of Stately Rule by the 249 Maharajas, and the loss of millions of lives in interreligious massacres – though not in Jaipur where Jai, by the force of his personality, prevented any such horrors occurring.

of the sporting set – with a string of eight hunters, and in the summer Le Touquet in northern France.

Back in India in 1932, the 22-year-old handsome and about-to-be famous polo-playing Maharaja of Jaipur came as a house guest for the Calcutta tournament. An adopted son of an heir-less father, and widely known simply as Jai, the world was already his footstool. Ayesha, although only 12, fell deeply in love with him.

For the next six years, Jai continued to come alone to England to play the London season. In a marriage arranged when he was only 13, he wedded the sister of Maharaja of Jodhpur, 12 years his senior and in another marriage arranged eight years later, her niece. These two wives came to

1 Ayesha addressing an election rally during her election campaign, 1967 2 Jacqueline Kennedy and Ayesha prize giving at Jaipur, 1968 3 HH Maharaja of Jaipur, FIP President Patrick Guerrand Hermes, HH Maharaja Gaj Singh of Jodpur and Ayesha 4 Ayesha

Although she had always kept out of politics, Ayesha had been extremely active in the State of Jaipur in preserving the ancient walls and buildings of the city, in founding the Maharani Gayatri Devi Girls’ School, a museum in the old city palace, and in the emancipation of Indian women generally. However, in 1961 she took the bold step of joining the Swatantra (Independent) party, hoping she could help it become a serious opposition to the ruling Congress party. Within a year she had not only been persuaded to lead it in the state, but also to stand for a seat in the Lok Sabha (Lower House). In 1962 she was campaigning on the road,covering vast distances and visiting even the remotest villages, spread across an area of 16,000 square miles.

Everywhere she went the great Indian tradition of hospitality abounded, and to her amazement Ayesha discovered, in her own words, that ‘most villagers, despite the simplicity of their lives and the cruel experiences of famine and crop failure, possessed a dignity and self-respect’ that made her ‘feel both admiration and something close to envy’.

She also discovered to her surprise that public speaking, which had always made her extremely nervous, now sometimes gave her ‘a sensation of warmth’. Her campaign earned her a flattering article in Time magazine, under the heading of ‘Whistle-stopping Maharani’, and more seriously a place in the Guinness Book of World Records when her majority – over 175,000 – was declared.

From the outset she was to prove a thorn in the side of the government and of the Prime Minister Pandit Nehru, for whom she nevertheless held a deep respect. Meanwhile Jai had been appointed Indian Ambassador to Spain. It was extremely difficult for Ayesha to spend as much time with him as she would have liked, however she did manage to combine her dual but distant roles of Lady Ambassadoress and a member of parliament, to most people’s admiration.

For Ayesha the year 1970 was to prove the most tragic of her life. While still in hospital following a major operation, she learnt of the death from a heart attack of her adored brother Bhayia, aged only 55. With his engaging smile and infectious sense of humour – so similar to her own – he was an irreplaceable companion.

Even worse was soon to follow. In late June, while playing in the County Cup at Cirencester, Jai collapsed at half-time and died before he reached hospital. Though distraught with grief, for his sake, she decided to continue to represent Rajasthan in the Lok Sabha, and was duly re-elected the following year, her attacks on the ruling Congress party remaining unabated.

In 1997, tragedy struck once more, when her son Jagat collapsed and died. Ayesha had now lost the three most important men in her life. Nevertheless, she continued to travel extensively, and with her amazing charm to lighten the lives of all with whom she came into contact.

During the summer months in London this year she was obliged to spend a great deal of time in the King Edward VII Hospital. Unable to walk and in considerable discomfort, any semblance of a joke still brought to her lustrous eyes a familiar and much-loved twinkle. On 18 July she was flown back to India and nine days later died peacefully near her beloved home, bringing to a close an extraordinary life that had seen extremes of joy and of sadness, of opulence and deprivation. Her funeral soon afterwards attracted the mightiest crowds to Jaipur that had ever been assembled since her husband’s death 39 years earlier.

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In the rarified air of the Mongolian peaks, an ancient breed of riders and ponies are being readied to take on the world of polo, reports Alston Beinhorn

On the high grassy steppes of central Mongolia near Kharkhorin, the capital of Genghis Khan’s 13th-century Mongol empire, lies a polo club like no other. Twenty-five traditional rounded white felt tents or gers, comprising the Genghis Khan Polo and Riding Club’s carefully conceived dining, sleeping, bathing and massage facilities for about 30 guests, are perched on a steep bluff overlooking the wide Orkhon river valley below. Beyond the gers rises the No. 1 polo field. Its run-off area extends gracefully beyond the far goalposts up towards a grassy mountain ridge, perhaps 20 miles away. One can see clearly for tens, even hundreds, of miles in most directions, all under Mongolia’s Eternal Blue Sky.

Mongolia today is probably the last of the world’s open frontiers, having no fences throughout its entire mountainous plateau. Half the size of Europe, it is the world’s most sparsely populated country, with only 1.4 inhabitants per square kilometre. Given that about a third of its three million people live in the capital Ulaanbataar alone, that leaves less than one million pastoral herders to care for its 35 million sheep, goats, yaks, cattle, horses and camels that graze across its high Alpine forests, grassy steppes, or the scrubby Gobi desert.

The Genghis Khan Club, set up in 1998, is the brainchild of Christopher Giercke, a native German based in Nepal. Together with his Mongolian wife Enkhe and a group of international polo players, Giercke has created an atmosphere in keeping with the ancient traditions Mongolia’s nomadic herders still adhere to today.

His gers are put together by traditional methods, using camel rawhide rather than wire and nails, and are covered by locally made, pure wool felt. The wooden furniture is made and delicately hand painted by his local staff (who also play polo, cook, and school horses). Additional creature comforts such as plumbing and pure cashmere blankets make for a comfortable stay.

Dinner time, however, is a departure from traditional Mongol meals, where one

stands and shares chunky goat or sheep cuts from the same pot, along with airag, the fermented mare’s milk locals devour each foaling season. Mostly European cuisine and Spanish wine is served on white tablecloths with silver service in the candle-lit dining ger to the accompaniment of live piano music played by a pianist brought in from the Ulaanbaatar Music Conservatory.

The main focus of the club is, of course, the polo. The Mongolian riders have to be, without doubt, some of the world’s best and most avid horsemen. And no one is working harder to bring polo to them than Giercke. From the beginning, he enlisted the help of Raj Kalaan, a 5-goal former commandant of the Indian Army’s 61st Calvary, and Gustavo Giai from Bariloche, who both ensured that all things polo were done properly. They showed the local horsemen how to school the Mongol horses for polo, brought in English polo

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1 Lots of run-off room, Mongolian style 2 Alston Beinhorn after a chukka 3 Summer Beinhorn, fi eldside, waiting to play 4 Traditional felt-lined gers at the Club 5 Local player and folk artist, Chooka, taking a break with ponies between chukkas 5 5

tack, and had the 44–46in mallets especially made in India. They laid out the fields, and taught the Mongols the rules of polo, although in the locals’ extreme exuberance to ride fast and hard, those rules are sometimes forgotten.

Riding and playing polo on Mongol horses is an experience that takes a day or two to master. They are largely the same bloodstock that has been used for over a thousand years, and they were the formidable force transporting conquering warriors all the way to modern Hungary.The ponies stand only 12 or so hands high and have proportionally shorter backs, heads and necks. Their girth size, however, is typically 42 inches, the same as many TB polo ponies. This gives them their tremendous heart and lung capacity, producing short, repeated bursts of extraordinary speed, even going up mountains. Add in the fact that their dark,

naturally shaped hooves never require trimming or shoeing, in spite of the often rocky terrain, and one has a horse than can trek up and down mountains for several hours in the morning before playing a couple of lengthy chukkas in the afternoon. Tendons are hardly a problem, since the ponies spend their nights standing knee deep in the shallow, cold-flowing waters of the Orkhon river below camp.

Genghis Khan Polo and Riding Club is committed to the nation’s youth too, through its work with schools across Mongolia. Last winter, Giercke again provided wooden horses and indoor training to 17 schools in eight provinces. And this summer, 50 of the most promising schoolboys were given transportation and lodging at the club for a week of mounted practice with Raj Kalaan, followed by the 4th National Children’s Polo Championship. The winter training programme, followed by outdoor instructional chukkas and a national championship each summer at the Club, has become an annual event in conjunction with the Mongolian chapter of FIP.

Given the Mongols’ innate horsemanship skills, so seriously honed over the centuries, it is quite possible that in a few years the international polo world will see a new Mongol breed of polo player, whose horsemanship, competitiveness and game skills are among the best in the world.