Tom Cleary Looks Back
First visit to India
In 1949, the strain of long hours and arduous duties at the Brunswick Club, as well as playing billiards on most nights, commenced to take its toll on my health. My son (Kevin) and daughter (Kathleen) had both married, which frequently left my wife at home alone at night. In addition, there was no doubt in my mind that the long hours and heavy duties, especially at night, expected of a Club Manager had hastened the death of my predecessor. All these problems were confronting me and, after discussing the position with my wife, I reluctantly decided to tender my resignation as Manager of the Club. It was a difficult decision to make, as the Brunswick Club had been very kind to me. Indeed, the Club had provided me with a business education, as well as enabling me to have an opportunity of becoming, perhaps, one of the top amateur billiard players in the world.
I gave the Club three months notice of my intentions, during which period I received an invitation from the Indian Billiards Association to make a tour of India with the object of promoting billiards in that country. As I felt the need of a holiday, I readily accepted the invitation. I left Melbourne in October, 1949, naturally in some state of excitement. I soon discovered that travelling overseas could provide many disappointments. For instance, the plane's first stop after leaving Australia for Djakarta for refuelling. The passengers were herded like sheep, under a military guard, and were not allowed to leave the airport. We were not provided with food or drink until we again boarded the aircraft.
Our next stop was overnight in Singapore, where there was a long delay with Customs. My baggage was opened and the contents strewn all over the place. The official said to me, "have you any sticks"? I soon realised he was referring to cigarettes and answered, "There are a few packets there". They were amongst my clothing and the official promptly selected six packets and placed them in his pocket, then cleared me. After I had rearranged my luggage it was left with BOAC for forwarding to Calcutta, my destination. Then with my overnight bag I was conducted to the Raffles Hotel for the night.
Next day I arrived at Dum Dum airport at Calcutta and was met by the Indian billiards officials. Unfortunately, my baggage had not arrived with the plane and all I had was what I stood in, together with the contents of my overnight bag, my cue and a set of billiard balls. I was in a nice fix, but at least I had my tools to work with! Ten days later I recovered my baggage in Madras. In the meantime the Indian Billiards Association fitted me out with a complete new wardrobe.
The Dum Dum Airport is about thirteen miles from the City of Calcutta, but it took about two hours to reach the Great Eastern Hotel where I was to stay. The roads were crowded with people and each vehicle using the road was fitted with two "tooters". One worked from the car battery in the usual manner and the other was operated by hand. The latter was necessary because the car battery would not have lasted 30 minutes! It was necessary to blow the horn almost continuously to clear the road of people. The noise for the whole journey was deafening and I was relieved when we reached the hotel.
To add to my discomfort, I was nearly sick from the stench rising from the roadway. There seemed to be no sanitary conveniences for the general use of the public, and it was a strange sight to see men and women urinating and defecating along the public highway. I was informed that the ordure was gathered up weekly and subsequently burned, hence the horrible stench. At the time it was the dry season and lack of rain added to the problem. I was appalled at the conditions under which these poor people lived. Their clothing appeared to be only a dirty loincloth, and mostly they slept on the streets. A splash of water from an odd tap provided a wash, but they had no soap. Soap is a comparative luxury in India and these poor people were quite unable to obtain it. Perhaps they were not even aware of it.
The person responsible for my tour was Mr Begg, the President of the Indian Billiards Association. On my way to the hotel Mr Begg handed me some coins saying "Do not be too liberal with your money, or you will be inundated with beggars". Upon arriving at the hotel I was besieged by servants who wanted to carry my luggage (my overnight bag and cue), but I was reluctant to part with it. Mr Begg muttered that it would be all right, and I was then taken to my room on the fifth floor.
After about half an hour I became worried that the servant had not arrived with my bag and cue. I was unaware that servants were not allowed to use the elevator. Eventually there was a knock on my door and three servants entered the room with my gear. I thanked them, but they did not move. I then realised that they were waiting for a tip, so I fumbled with the coins Mr Begg had given to me, but did not know their value or how much to give each servant. I decided to give each servant one of the largest coins, but their expressions indicated that they were not very happy. Eventually they left, but later I found out that the large coin was the equivalent of about one-penny. No wonder they glared at me! I was unable to rectify the matter as I was unable to tell one Indian servant from another. No doubt I was held in low esteem by all the hotel servants after that incident.
I was unable to sleep that night because of the loud "tooting" of passing motor cars. It was like a children's party on Christmas Day! I had been placed in a second-class room which had no windows, but on the following day I corrected that. The following morning Mr Begg arrived with a tailor and a few samples of cloth. I selected a beautiful grey silk material and, after being measured, my suit was ready for me to wear at one o'clock that afternoon. I purchased the remainder of my requirements in the Great Eastern Hotel, where it was possible to buy anything from a pin to an elephant! Mr Begg apologised for my discomfort on the previous night and, after doing some more shopping, he conducted me to my new living quarters - a well-appointed large room with all modern conveniences. So I began to think that life in India was not so bad after all.
That evening I was given an official reception, amid much pomp and splendor. Whisky flowed like water, the food was appetising and I was waited upon like royalty. However, this luxury living was not to last, as I was informed that I was to commence my tour of the country next morning. I was to be accompanied by a Mr V. Freer, who was Amateur Billiards Champion of India at that time. He was a train driver by occupation and was a good all round player.
We travelled by train to Vizagapatam, which is approximately 100 miles from Calcutta, for our first exhibition match. The playing conditions were somewhat ordinary and the club in which we played only held about 60 spectators comfortably. However, about 100 people somehow managed to crowd into the billiard room, and there was scarcely room left for us to move around the table. Mr Freer and I played a match of 600 up. I broke and left the balls in a good position for him, which is the usual thing to do when giving an exhibition. He ran up a break of 110, and then played safety. I could see that he was going to be a tough opponent. Foolishly I tried to score but missed, leaving the balls in a good scoring position. This time he made a break of 169, and again played safety. By this time I was in real trouble. The table was fitted with block rubber cushions and was running fast - about nine lengths - and the cloth was like glass, with no nap left on it. The conditions were such that it was not possible for me to play top of the table. My opponent was in good spirits, for he was a good red ball player. I managed a couple of breaks of 100 or so, but he was too far ahead and ran out a winner by over 200 points. I was a little disappointed, but resolved to do better next time.
Mr Singh, the President of the Club - if, indeed, it could be called a club - made it easier for me when he informed me that Mr Freer had defeated Bob Marshall by about the same margin when Bob had played there about two years earlier. Incidentally, Bob had told me that he had been undefeated during his tour of India, but I later learned that he had been beaten on no fewer than six occasions.
After the match with Mr Freer at Vizagapatam an odd incident occurred. I asked one of the committeemen to direct me to the toilet. He explained that there was no toilet in the club and that I would have to go down to the river. I had no alternative. It was just as well that I invariably carried a handkerchief! This experience taught me a lesson, and subsequently I never failed to carry toilet paper in my pocket. Toilet paper was almost unheard of in India, and most of the Indian population use the left hand for this purpose. Some wash their hands afterwards, but some do not. It is no wonder that the people of India claim that the left hand is unclean.
Mr Freer and I then travelled south to Cocanada, Guntar, Vizayawada and Chennapuri. As we continued our journey our performances improved, the climate being cooler and more suitable in which to play billiards, but the condition of the tables left much to be desired. My best break was 296, and I was able to defeat Mr Freer in every subsequent encounter. In all the games there had been a referee, a marker and an official calling the hazards and six ball boys (one for each pocket). This made nine officials and it soon became evident to me that there was some method behind this apparent madness. After each game I was expected to tip each official 1 rupee (about 20 cents Australian). Mr Freer was not in a position to do likewise. As my expense allowance was somewhat meager, I could see that I was going to be flat out trying to make ends meet!
During the next exhibition match at Guntar I made a very bad faux pas. The night was sticky and humid, the table very fast and the pockets slightly under standard size. Lamps had been placed under the table to help dry out the cloth. Each time I visited the table I could feel perspiration trickling down my legs - I was the only person present wearing long trousers - and I was not in a good mood. The large crowd was expecting to see some big breaks but, under the prevailing conditions, I knew this was not possible. To add to my concern, all kinds of beetles and insects kept dropping onto the table. At my first visit to the table I had reached 96 and said to myself "I'll make 100 this time, or die". I played a cannon to reach the red ball, which was on the brink of a pocket when a beetle fell onto the table right in the path of my cue ball and turned it at right angles away from the red ball. I thus missed the cannon and the 100 break. I exploded and cried out, "This is a black fellow's game". Then all at once I realised I was the only white person in the room. I forthwith apologised for my indiscretion. Later on I managed to make a break of 176 and, following some trick shots which always add lustre to an exhibition, an enjoyable evening was spent.
After the exhibition I expressed a desire for a bath as I was wringing wet with perspiration. The President of the Club thereupon invited me to his home, which proved to be a rather primitive place. When we arrived he informed me that the bath was behind the curtain and that his servant would attend to my wants. When I pulled back the curtain I was dumbfounded. I had expected to see a nice bathroom, but instead there was a large tub - the kind used to bath an infant. It was placed in the middle of a square of concrete measuring about six feet by six feet. I had to sit in this tub while the servant poured water over me from a dipper. Nearby was a kerosene tin which did service as a toilet pan.
After the "bath" the President and I sat down to dinner. It was then two o'clock in the morning. It is the custom of the Indian people to dine late, but on this occasion it was much later than usual. I was starving, but try as I would I was unable to cope with the food, which consisted of curry swamped with chilies. Too hot for my taste!
After having been in the country for only seven days I had lost 8 pounds in weight! I practically lived on bananas during this southern tour and was glad when it ended. Madras was our next venue and again I was pleased to be in a big city, with the chance of enjoying some wholesome food. I stayed at the Conomara Hotel, a beautiful white marble building constructed by the Russians in 1900. Unfortunately this great hotel had become something of a "white elephant" because of changes which had been effected in the laws relating to liquor in 1920.
In Madras I gave three exhibitions with Wilson Jones, V. Salvaraj and V. Freer. Wilson and I turned on some scintillating billiards and snooker, each making breaks of 100 and 200 odd in billiards. My highest break was 347. Salvaraj also made the odd century, but he was largely a red ball player, hence his lack of success. Nevertheless, he was a charming gentleman and companion.
The large attendance at these exhibition games was almost frightening. Many hundreds of people were turned away. Those who gained admittance were jammed into the hall, some even sitting in the rafters! The temporary seating that had been erected looked by no means safe at any time and, in fact, on the last night it collapsed. I was in the middle of compiling a break when suddenly I heard a great noise. I glanced around to see dozens of people tumbling down towards me. In a flash, I dived under the billiard table to safety. Ten spectators required hospital treatment for broken limbs. Salvaraj's cue was smashed. He had not been able to avoid the crush, and was also taken to hospital suffering with shock. Altogether it was a terrifying experience.
Because of the great success of these exhibition games, pressure was brought to bear on me to stay a further day. However, as I had a busy itinerary ahead of me I declined, as I was required to fulfil engagements at Bangalore, Coimbatore, Trivandru, Madras and other centres. A delay would certainly have disarranged the programme. It was just as well that I refused to stay the extra day for a calamity would have befallen me.
Bangalore is the coolest part of India and the playing conditions there were somewhat similar to those in Australia. I was playing at my top and made a billiards break of 456, and later a break of 99 at snooker. In this frame I ran out of balls, which deprived me of the opportunity of reaching the coveted 100. The spectators greeted this performance with great excitement and I was "king" of Bangalore that night!
Next morning I travelled on to Trivandrum by plane, where my best break was 367. This exhibition was not as hectic as that of the previous evening and I was able to get to bed reasonably early. But, alas, a tragedy was about to occur. The following morning I was taken to the airport to meet the plane that was to take me to Coimbatore. After a wait of two hours the plane had not arrived and I returned to my hotel. By this time fears were held for the safety of the plane and during the afternoon word filtered through that the aircraft was missing. Later a replacement plane took me to Coimbatore and the evening newspapers confirmed that the other plane was missing and was believed to have crashed.
I fulfilled my engagements and returned to Madras. Eight days later the ill-fated plane was found in jungle country. The bodies of the passengers and crew had been mutilated by wild animals. If I had consented to stay a further day at Madras I would have been travelling on that plane. Such is life! It was the first air tragedy to have occurred in India for ten years.
The next portion of my tour covered New Delhi, Agra, Lucknow and Govidina. Travel to New Delhi was by train, which was by no means safe as white people were not held in the highest esteem. I was placed in a compartment alone and was told to lock myself in. It was a 12 hour journey and I hardly slept a wink. It seemed to me that beggars were constantly knocking on the carriage door shouting "Sahib! Sahib! Sahib!" They were travelling on the footboard of the carriage. It was all very disturbing to my peace of mind and I was relieved to reach my destination.
I arrived at New Delhi on Saturday, which was a free day for me, and expressed a desire to see the film "Samson and Delilah" which was showing at the time. Arrangements were promptly made for me to have a private box at the theatre. A Government car was placed at my disposal and when the driver dropped me at the theatre he asked if he could go home to see his wife and family, stating that he would pick me up after the show. I agreed, and then entered the theatre where, presumably as a precaution, I was locked into my box. However, to my dismay I discovered that the sound track of the film was in the language appropriate to that part of India, and I was unable to understand any of it!
Next morning my chauffeur was directed to take me on a tour of Old and New Delhi. I had been suffering with constipation for about three days, so I asked him to stop at a chemist's shop so that I could obtain a laxative. I duly swallowed three tablets and continued my tour. At lunch time we returned to the hotel for a meal. As I was settling down to enjoy my lunch an acquaintance walked over to me saying "Tom, you were indeed lucky to miss the plane that crashed!". Suddenly, I could feel the laxative working, so I said "Excuse me, but I'll be back in a few minutes". I had to get to my quarters about 100 yards distant and up two flights of stairs. I had a feeling that I would not make it! Just as I reached the door of my room nature took its course. I was in an awful mess and it was necessary for me to have a bath and complete change of clothing. When I eventually returned to the dining-room my acquaintance was no longer there, so I was unable to explain my apparent rudeness. Little did I know that there was a toilet about ten yards from the table at which I had been sitting!
Wilson Jones came to New Delhi to play an exhibition match at Government House. On this occasion we each performed very well, making breaks of over 300 at billiards, whilst at snooker Wilson made a break of 81 and I managed one of 79. For our efforts we were each presented with a pair of gold cuff links.
Next day we visited the Cricket Club at New Delhi, where I met the famous Duleepsinju. He was a charming person and a good billiard player. I played a friendly game with him, during which he made a break of 125. Sad to relate, he passed away about twelve months later.
I then journeyed to Agra, where I played a couple of matches in private homes and was entertained by Mr R. Singh. My real reason for passing through Agra was to see the famous Taj Mahal, one of the great wonders of the world. I stayed three days in Agra, then travelled to Lucknow. This journey was something of an ordeal. It took eighteen hours and I was required to travel by oxen cart. What a nightmare it was! At the end of the journey I was sick, sore and sorry. My joints were aching so much that I had to rest for the next 24 hours. However, I was quartered in what I was informed was the best guest house in Lucknow. It was like a gaol! It was a hut about 16 feet square, with a concrete floor, and no bed. The windows were merely openings and were fitted with iron bars. I was unable to eat the food supplied to me so bananas again became my staple diet.
By this time I had lost 14 pounds in weight and was becoming fed up with this type of living. But what could I do? I was in the heart of India and had to put up with it. I said to myself "Only three more days and I'll be back in Calcutta!". Although I never saw a cloud in the sky in the three months during which I was in India, I carried with me an overcoat which, on this occasion, was to prove very useful. No blankets were provided in my room so I rolled the overcoat around my shoes and thus made a pillow. I was so tired that I slept like a log, with my clothes on, and did not open my eyes until 10 o'clock the following morning. In the act of putting on my shoes I suddenly noticed a large scorpion drop out of one shoe. I was really shocked to think that I had been sleeping with that scorpion close to my head. Eventually I recovered from the whole ordeal, but was glad to leave Lucknow.
I arrived back in Calcutta on 18th December in time for the National Championship series. The Commonwealth Cricket team had also arrived for the second test match. George Tribe, Cargie Greaves and Bruce Dooland, all of whom I knew, were travelling with the team and naturally I wanted to see them. I phoned George, who made arrangements for me to meet him in the cricketers' dressing room, where I was introduced to members of the team.
It was an extremely hot day and the visitors, who had won the toss, decided to bat. Immediately I was invited to have a drink, and I was amused to see that nearly all the players were also drinking. The team had received a donation of six dozen bottles of Dutch beer and it was being consumed with enthusiasm. Cargie was to go in to bat at fifth wicket down, and by the time he had taken his place at the crease he had had a few beers. I thought to myself, "he won't last long out there", but he knocked up a century in 70 minutes, then threw away his hand. George Trible also made 71. Perhaps the beer had given them Dutch courage! I spent a couple of days with this cricket team - a welcome relief from intensive billiard matches.
The National Championship was contested by a strong field, including Wilson Jones, Chandra Hirjee, M. Lafir (of Colombo), T. Salvaraj, V. Freer, myself, and a couple of players of lesser fame\. Hirjee was regarded as one of the most brilliant and entertaining players in India. In 1954 he was selected as second string to represent his country in the World Championship series contested in Sydney. He came from a wealthy family engaged in the jute business. Unfortunately, he fell foul of the taxation authorities in 1954 and was not allowed to leave the country, which cleared the way for me to compete as second string for Australia in that year. As a result, I won the World Championship Title on that occasion - but more of that later.
Salvaraj and Freer, being red ball players, were considered not to have much chance of winning, whilst it was thought that the up-and-coming Wilson Jones might be the surprise packet. With the exception of M. Lafir, who was a promising player, the remainder of the field was given little chance of winning the Title. At that time, Lafir was better known as a snooker player, but in 1967 he was runner-up to Leslie Driffield (England) in the World Amateur Billiards Championship. Lafir was gifted with a keen sense of humor. One evening in Calcutta the players decided to attend a picture theatre. Instead of travelling by rickshaw it was decided that we should walk. As most people are aware, cows throughout India are regarded as sacred animals and roam the streets at will. Naturally they leave droppings in all sorts of unexpected places. As we made our way to the theatre I accidentally put my foot in a patch of cow manure. In a flash Lafir cried, "Foul! Four Away!".
The National Championship was eventually won by Wilson Jones. He and I played off in the final, each of us being undefeated. By this time I was "browned off" with billiards and did not produce the form expected of me. Wilson went on to win the World Title at Calcutta in 1958, and again in New Zealand in 1964. He retired at the comparatively early age of 54. The Government of India invested him with a knighthood to mark his achievements. At that time he was the only Indian to have won a World Championship in amateur sport. Later he was presented with a testimonial of 100,000 rupees - at that time the equivalent of $A20,000.
Following the National Championship series at Calcutta, the last leg of my tour took me to Bombay. I considered this very interesting and large city to be the cleanest, wealthiest and most Westernised community in India. I was provided with accommodation at the Cricket Club of Bombay - a beautiful stadium with all modern conveniences. In fact, it reminded me of the Melbourne Cricket Ground. A Mr Visinji, millionaire employer of Wilson Jones, was in charge of my stay in Bombay.
When I arrived the great festival of Bombay, which extends over ten days, was at is peak. Mr Visinji said to me "Do come and see this wonderful procession. It is something you might not see again". Later I was introduced to the Maharajah of Burdwan, the Maharani, and many of their family, all of whom seemed to me like characters out of a fairy tale. Dressed in gorgeous saris, they were all strikingly beautiful, and they all wore magnificent jewellery during the festival. Mr Visinji informed me that even a computer could not assess the value of all the diamonds and other jewellery worn at the festival. I was dumbfounded by all the display.
The people welcomed me with open arms and made me feel at home. I attended many public and private ceremonies more breathtaking that Cecil B. de Mille ever dreamed of. The climax came when I was invited to join the Shah of Persia and his Princess in one of the cars in the procession as it made its way through the streets. At the head of the procession were the Maharaja and Maharani of Burdwan, seated in a golden howdah on the royal elephant, followed by a retinue of people of lesser importance, but all looking resplendent in their trappings, with beautiful hand-painted designs on their foreheads. It seemed as if we were passing through a sea of dark faces, with waves going back as far as the horizon. Many people also were heightened further when daylight faded and the procession continued by torchlight. When later I thanked the Shah for the privileged position from which I had witnessed the procession, he remarked, "Oh! I do like to meet strangers".
My programme for my six days stay in Bombay was: rise at 7.00am, take a bath, followed by breakfast comprised of toast, jam and a cup of black tea. Other food was available, but I was in no mood for anything more substantial. On arrival in India I had been somewhat overweight, but by the time I reached Bombay I had lost 18 pounds and I was feeling much fitter.
There was a good billiard table at the Cricket Club and after breakfast I would practice for about two hours. At midday a car would pick me up and take me on my way for exhibitions - perhaps two in the afternoon and one in the evening. During my short stay in Bombay I played 21 exhibition matches and was undefeated. Strange to relate, Wilson Jones was never selected to play against me, for what reason I do not know. The only conclusion I could arrive at was that the Indian authorities did not wish to risk him being defeated. I was playing at the top of my form and consistently had made breaks of over 200, and three breaks of over 400. However, my tour was a great success and the Association profited by many thousands of rupees.
During my stay in Calcutta I was fortunate to make the acquaintance of Princess Toy and her brother, Prince Sonu, as well as their mother, the Begum, all of whom were associated with the Indian Billiards Control Council. They treated me with great kindness and on many occasions invited me to their home. In appreciation of our happy times together the Begum presented me with five lovely diamonds. So much did I value this gift that I kept the diamonds constantly in my possession, even sleeping with them under my pillow. I wrote home to my wife telling her that I would bring her back some beautiful diamonds, something she had always wanted, especially from India.
Somoneith (Sam) Banerjee's father at this time asked me if I would assist his son with his billiards with a little coaching. I readily agreed, whereupon a car was placed at my disposal each morning for one week so that I could travel to and from Sam's home, where there was a billiard table. Sam was an apt pupil and my coaching enabled him to improve his game considerably. In appreciation of my efforts for Sam, Mr Banerjee presented me with a suit length, and asked me if I would like anything else. I told him I was satisfied with the cloth, but he remarked, "Surely that is not sufficient" and insisted that I name something else. I told him that I had been given some precious stones and that perhaps a gold ring might make a suitable mounting for one of the stones. He immediately ordered a chaffeur to take me to a jeweller, with whom I made arrangements to mount one of the diamonds on a ring. Two days later the finished ring and the remainder of the diamonds were returned to me at my hotel.
When I arrived back in Australia my wife was anxious to see these jewels. When they were shown to her she said, "I don't believe they are diamonds, Tom, although they shine like diamonds". Soon afterwards she took them to a prominent Melbourne jeweller to have them valued, to be informed that they were plain glass and virtually valueless. To this day I do not know whether the "diamonds" were switched by the jeweller. I would not be surprised if this had occurred, as sharp practices of this nature are not entirely unknown. Such was another sad experience for me in India.