I am not sure, but I imagine I drifted into the profession of billiards rather than made a deliberate choice. With a precocity not unusual amongst juveniles I thought I might emulate the deeds of my famous father on the billiard-table, but I have gained a deal of wisdom since. I know now that something more than the prestige of a great name is required to carve out a career. The name is invaluable, of course, but nowadays the public want something more substantial than, shall I say, making a name through a name. I have long since recognized that to rise in the billiard world needs a thousand and one things in addition to the great heritage handed down to me by one of the world's greatest exponents of his day.
I started playing as soon as my head appeared above the rails of a billiard-table. Indeed, in my first attempt I had practically to climb up one of the legs. My brothers and sister were my earliest opponents, and until my father took over a public billiard room at London Bridge I did not know what it was to play with strangers. It was here I made my first 100 break, and the most vivid recollection of it I retain is that I wore an Eton suit. The victim was a "grown-up," and when I had finished the break and before the game was ended he threw his cue down on the table and angrily exclaimed he was not going to be beaten by a mere chit of a boy; and he was not, for he resolutely refused to go on with it.
On leaving school, my father entrusted me with the management of these same rooms, and thus force of circumstances labelled me and claimed me as a professional. My first real public appearance was at the old Aquarium in Westminster in one of the handicaps promoted by my father. And then it was merely as a deputy for some one, whose name I forget at the moment, who failed to turn up. I had to play the late J. C. Coles, and, receiving half the game, I just managed to scramble home.
Coles was very nice about it, and gave me some very valuable hints, and pointed out one or two faults relative to the way in which I held the cue and delivered it at the ball.
For several years subsequently billiards occupied a subsidiary place in my mind, because I was looking after the business my father was interested in, and merely played the game as a sort of recreation. However, when my father retired from the White Horse, Brixton, my interest in billiards as a profession rekindled, and I was fortunate to receive an invitation from Messrs. Burroughes & Watts to take part in the first second-class tournament promoted by them in season 1911-12.
I secured my first step on the ladder of fame by coming out with the honours of that event, and so secured a place in the big tournament of 1912-13. With 3,000 start in 9,000 in a field which included Inman, Smith, Reece, Newman, Aiken, and Diggle, I won two games, but did ever so much better in the same event the following season, when I won five games out of six, beating Inman, Aiken, Diggle, Stevenson, and Reece, and only succumbing to Newman, who won all his games.
This decided me to go wholeheartedly in for the game as a profession, and if I have not yet reached the height of my ambition I am not without hope of getting into the select circle in the near future. In recent years I have had an uninterrupted run of success in what is known as the second grade, meeting and beating in turn such well-known professionals as Harris, Raynor, Tothill, Lawrence, Davis, and Carpenter, and also had a fair measure of success whenever I have had the opportunity of playing against the top weights.
I was born at the White Horse Hotel, Brixton, on December 18, 1880, and my record break under strict standard conditions is 440 against Carpenter on September 20, 1920. A great source of gratification to me was when Claude Falkiner appointed me as his chief instructor at the School of Instruction which that famous player organized at Thurston's nearly two years ago.