"Jolly Good Show"

Fat, placid Queen Anne got tired of bouncing in a carriage over Britain's heaths watching the gentlemen of her court chase deer. She established the Ascot racecourse so that she could sit in one place and watch the gentlemen race their horses around. In the 238 years since then (right up into last week), interesting occurrences have taken place at Ascot.

Charles James Fox, great friend of American independence, appeared at Ascot, they say, in a grey topper, and started a fashion that slowly took hold. In 1791 there was a celebrated running of the Oatlands stakes at Ascot. Baronet, owned by the Prince of Wales (later George the Fourth), won the race after London had gone almost out of its collective mind over the event. An estimated -L-500,000 changed hands in bets, and the Prince picked up -L-17,000 in wagers at 20 to 1.

Victoria, not keen on racing, always kept up the tradition of royal sponsorship of Ascot meets. She once asked the midget jockey Bell how much he weighed. Staunchly, little Bell replied: "My master says I'm never to tell my weight." (He weighed 56 lbs.)

No one, of course, forgets the day in 1930 when The MacNab won the Royal Hunt Cup. There was The MacNab, pounding toward the finish in a howling thunderstorm, when a flash of lightning struck and killed a prominent bookmaker.

No Smoking. With that rich background, little wonder that last month 5,000 Britons who had reason to feel they would not be refused addressed to "His Majesty's Ascot Representative, St. James Palace" applications for admission to the Royal Enclosure at Ascot.

Their pleas had been scanned by a battery of palace secretaries, then checked and passed on to Ascot's Chief Steward, the Duke of Norfolk. The Duke's appointed list was sent to the Lord Chamberlain, then the King & Queen themselves gave the list a final scrutiny. People who had been successfully sued for divorce (not those who did the suing) were ruthlessly weeded out ("The only time I remember to hate my first wife is Ascot Week," gloomed one Londoner who was divorced 30 years ago).

All the petitioners had to wait in suspense until the very week before the races. Those who were accepted were mailed a crown-embossed badge of cardboard admitting them to the coveted square of turf upon payment of -L-10 for gentlemen, -L-7 for ladies. Holders of mere owners' cards (like Rita and Aly Khan and Beautician Elizabeth Arden Graham) sat in boxes overlooking the Royal Enclosure--but that was a long way from being inside it. These underprivileged souls had some crumbs of comfort. Ladies in the Royal Enclosure may not smoke cigarettes and are forbidden to lean across the fence to place bets with bookies. Last week the ladies in the Royal Enclosure strictly observed the no-smoking rule, although a few were seen betting.

Mark of a Stable Hand. As champagne (at 55 shillings a bottle) popped merrily in the exclusive Marlborough Club tent, an Oxford youth remarked: "Jolly good show this year." Others agreed that it was the gayest Ascot in ten years. Ladies' hats were as heaped with frills and flowers as in prewar years. Gentlemen, as always, were impeccably clad in morning coats, striped trousers (-L-2 a day rental from fashionable Moss Bros, haberdashery) and the conventional Ascot grey toppers. Dashing Captain W. Rees-Davies was especially applauded for his black & gold weskit, said to be an exact duplicate of the garment once worn by Beau Nash, There was only one untoward incident. On Tuesday when King George and his daughter Elizabeth followed the royal filly Avila to the saddling ring, a young man tapped the Princess on the shoulder to ask her for an autograph. He was hustled off by detectives. The Times, nodding into a dream of prewar days, said that the upstart wore "slacks and a sport coat, apparently a stable hand."

Hats Off. As 20 horses went to the starting post in the Coronation Stakes, George VI paced the royal box puffing anxiously at his cigarette (gentlemen may smoke). As the field approached the finish, a bookie spotted the royal colors, purple, gold braid and red, in the lead. "Hats off, boys," he shouted while purple-faced lords cried, "The King! The King!" When George's Avila crossed the line three lengths ahead of the others, every grey topper on the course, except the King's, was raised in congratulation. At Ascot, everybody is glad when the King's horse wins.

Even the outcasts bear no grudges. One lady who used to be invited into the Royal Enclosure for the last two years has had to buy a paddock ticket. "Really," she said last week, "I meet everyone I know in the paddock."

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