WORKING THE TOTALISATOR

Sun (Auckland), Volume 1, Issue 8, 31 March 1927, Page 8

WORKING THE TOTALISATOR

(Written for THE SUN.) tpHE general public has little idea of the inner workings of the totalisator; its interest being centred mainly in buying a ticket at the front of the machine and going round the back to collect. There are two systems of issuing totalisator tickets in use in the Auckland province—the electric method at Ellerslie and the old “hand” style on all the other racecourses. At Ellerslie, for a fortnight before a meeting is to take place, a staff of mechanics overhauls the ticket-issuing machines and subjects them to all manner of tests, the final trial being a run-off of 40,000 dummy tickets. The whole electric system is overhauled and nothing is left to chance. Finally the intricate machinery has been “tuned-up” to the satisfaction of the man responsible for Its running and all is ready for the day. The crowds are arriving at the course for the first day’s races: About 140 men and 50 women clerks, who have been engaged beforehand, take their places inside the buildings. A bell rings and an electric sign gives the signal “Sell.” The selling windows are opened. Queues have already been formed outside by the eager punters and business has started. The “seller” takes the punter’s pound or ten shilling note and repeats the order to his “stamper,” the man who works the little machine which issues the ticket. "Four-one,” says the seller, and the stamper turns d handle until its point comes opposite number 4, and then presses it down. This causes an electric contact that immediately issues a ticket and also records its sale on the big face of the machine which the crowd is so earnestly studying. “Seven-one,” "five-three,” and so on, the sellers keep calling in monotonous tones to their stampers, and the little instruments make a steady clicking as they send forth streams of tickets. The last five minutes before closing time for the first race sees a strenuous clamouring for tickets from those who fear being “shut out” (and what a blessing in disguise getting "shut out” often means!) So the “tote” clerks are kept moving, exchanging notes for tickets until a bell rings again and the machinery instantly stops. No more tickets can be sold for this race, despite the excited appeals for “One on twelve, two on three.” There Is a rush to the stands to see the race run. Meanwhile the selling clerk is counting the money he has received and comparing it with the number of tickets he has sold, a little counting apparatus on his machine showing at a glance how many tickets were purchased on that race. Having checked his cash he takes it over to the “payout” windows and makes ready for operations there when the dividend is declared. The race has been run and the usual scamper of the lucky ones to the payout windows has taken place. The dividend to be paid is written on a blackboard and the pay-out clerk opens his ready reckoner, sees if he has enough half-crowns, shillings and sixpences and awaits the electric sign “Pay.” After a few minutes, if there has been no protest about the horses or jockeys, the sign appears and up go the windows. There is a hum of voices outside as the amount of the "div.” flies from mouth to mouth, and the counting out proceeds for the next 25 minutes. When all the fortunate ones have been paid, the clerk has hastily to count the number of tickets he has cashed, subtract their total value from what money he brought from the selling window and strike a balance. Having done this and everything being in order he hands the bundle of cancelled tickets bearing his name to female inspectors who go through the bundles to see that the stated number are there and that no “wrong ’uns” have been, cashed. Each building generally has two “banks” with a cashier in charge of each, and to one of these “banks” the pay-out clerk pays in what money he has left and receives a signed acknowledgment. By this time the second race has been run and the pay-out clerk takes his empty till over to his selling window and becomes a “seller” again for the third race, passing on his way the clerk who was selling for the second race and who is now going to pay out. So each race is a repetition of the first. At the end of the day when the public and most of the staff have departed, the "banks’ ” cashiers have to get busy on their bundles of notes and stacks of silver coin to get their books and “bullion" balanced. A few detectives and policemen are detailed to stay around to keep away the inquisitive. The balance effected and the money securely placed in stout leather hags, taxis arrive, and cashiers, money and police are whirled to a city bank where the money is again counted and a receipt given. It has been a long day for the cashiers—from nine in the morning until 11 at night—and they must be out at their post again by 9 a.m. next day if races are on. Immediately the last race is run the mechanics must get busy on their part of the apparatus. Although the machinery may have run smoothly, there are many minor troubles to be attended to, lest they develop Into serious faults the next day. The whole of the machinery must be examined and tested afresh and if the mechanical staff gets to bed by midnight it is fortunate. The second morning of the meeting —9 a.m. The cashiers have brought the money from the big city institution and have arranged it in neat piles on the shelves of their “premises,” for a large sum—especially silver —is required for the day’s proceedings. The mechanical staff gives a last hurried look over the machinery—some oil here, a little tightening there —and all seems ready. The clerks arrive in twos and threes, fill-up sheets concerning the day’s races and cash, or wander round until the bell rings announcing the beginning of the second day’s business. Everyone takes his or her allotted place, up go the "selling” windows and thus commences a repetition of the previous day, for those inside the tote buildings at any rate—for the punters outside, well, who knows what the day may bring? What has the totalisator clerk seen of the two days’ races? His race book, a seemingly neverending queue of people, the electric sign “Sell” or “Pay” and “oodles” of money. If he has been working among the 10s tickets he has received about £IOOO at the selling windows and paid out nearly as much at the pay-out windows. No excitement for him. He needs a cool head to handle money in such rushes.