PROFILE Mirabel Topham, Ruler Of Aintree

Press, Volume C, Issue 29497, 26 April 1961, Page 20

PROFILE Mirabel Topham, Ruler Of Aintree

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SIMON KAVANAUGH]

LONDON A British-owned steeplechaser named Russian Hero is the closest the Soviet Union has come to winning Britain’s greatest steeplechase—the Grand National. Mirabel Topham. the unlikely but forceful boss of the formidable Aintree track, remembers that grey windy Liverpool day in 1949 when Russian Hero romped home by eight dear lengths. Punters collected at 66 to 1 as the nine-year-old passed the post. It was a surprising but popular win—and for Mrs M. D. Topham it marked the end of yet another successful National. It may be that the winner's name sowed the seeds of her inspiration, 12 years later, to welcome Russian trained horses to the track. Never Bets

But if an Iron Curtain horse wins at Aintree. it will have to fly over 30 thorn fences and the water jump without Mrs Topham’s shirt on its back. She never bets. She says she never has time. Her whole life is taken up with jumping obstacles that for 28 years have confronted her in the direction of this annual steeplechase costing £95.000 to stage. Since she joined the board of directors of her husband's family flrm leasing the racecourse, Mirabel Topham has waged her war relentlessly against anyone she thinks is trying to get something for nothing from the track. She tilted at the 8.8. C. over broadcasting and television rights, and came out on top in battles that lasted the best part of a decade—better off by more than £40,000. When she refused to allow the “blower”—press agencies that pass results by telephone to bookmakers off the course—to operate at Aintree unless they paid for facilities, she had a long, tough light. She won—but not before the tick tack men had signalled results to runners waiting at telephones outside the race track One War to Win The only war she had not won is still being fought. It is the year-to-year skirmish with animal lovers who regard the National as a slaughter house for horses. "Miree” Topham , last year conceded ground when she ordered the approaches to 11 fences to be altered for horses to jump at an angle of 50 degrees instead of 65 degrees. Fenders at the base of the jumps were brought forward one foot and the tops sloped backwards. This followed the outcry after the 1959 race when two horses were killed, and from a field of 34 runners, only four finished.

Undaunted Mrs Topham invited the Home Secretary to see the race, declaring: “It is not a cruel race. I am sure the horses enjoy it" It is not surprising then that the British public's image of Mirabel Topham is tinged with fire and Stockholm tar. Through years of publicity, starting with a Court case when a former clerk of the course was dismissed. she has constantly given the impression of a modem Boadicea. Brat The BXC.

In 1962 she refused to allow the 8.8. C. to broadcast the race and substituted her own commentators at short notice. The commentary was a fiasco. But she laughed off criticism and continued to fight the corporation for big money until a £ 15,000-a-year television contract was signed over champagne in a London hotel.

At last, giving the impression of being a willing horse, she toasted success to the 8.8.C.’s 16 camera teams and 130 staff—the outsize production unit picked to televise the Arce—in water. “Miree” Topham has ruled i Aintree for longer than she

likes to remember. In turn she has been called “Queen", “Amazon”, and “Czarina" of the jumps that for 120 years have drawn excited, boisterous crowds to have a “bob" each way on their fancy. Few will dispute that “Mrs T” is boss of the National track, or that she has achieved deserved praise through her own efforts. She went in for racing because she felt she was a better manager than her husband. Arthur Topham, whose family has managed Aintree Since 1839. However tough Mrs Topham has been in bussiness. the other side of her personality is full of the womanly charm she displayed in the twenties on the London stage as Hope Hillier, a little known actress. She remembers her part in “Quality Street" at the Haymarket theatre, and as a principal boy in pantomime. This sense of showmanship has helped her to keep the Grand National as the leading “over the sticks" meeting in Britain. Off the course, “Miree” or

“Mims” to her friends.-keeps bees, relaxes in an elegant Regency home in Nash terrace opposite Regent's Park lake, rides in a Rolls-Royce—-and enjoys her food.

She loves cooking—particularly “sticky cooking”, dishes like soup with tournedos (definitely not horse flesh), pancakes, raspberry mousse and caramel cream. Especially caramel cream. Regretfully she has no children. This lack of family ties may account for the terrific energy she has put into preserving the Grand National tradition. She quit the theatre and moved North when her husband was offered a seat on the Tophams board of directors. Within a year she had replaced, him. lost a court case that cost thousands, and raised eyebrows of British punters who began to realise that she was a law unto herself. • In lean war years she saved Aintree from the plough by threatening the Army officer in charge of the tractor party with personal responsibility for damage to the course. It was a comparatively mild foretaste of the formidable front she was to present to the 8.8. C., off-the-course-bookmaker* and an!- • mal lovers long after the war was over. More than 10 years later she added a motor racing track—a wide strip of concrete that followed the perimeter of the Grand National course. It was bar latest money spinner. Mirabel Topham's battles with the 8.8. C. and the “blower" have bran fought and won. But with a telegraphic address like "Chasing. Liverpool" It is unlikely that she will be out of the running for long. It's difficult to argue with a woman like “Mrs T“— especially when she says: “When I see a big man coming after a little man I want to join in.”—Express Feature Service.