On the morning of the 1st of November 1930, at 5.45am, a black sedan carrying two men menacingly cruised through the South East Melbourne suburb of Glenhuntly. One of the men sat in the back seat, he carried a shot gun for good company. Once they had turned out of James street into Etna, they found what they were looking for...Phar Lap. As the gun was shoved out through the back window, stable lad Tommy Woodcock took action. He bounced the pony he was riding, into Big Red, pushing him onto the footpath. He then wedged the great horse hard up against the rusty, corrugated, tin fence. Somewhere during all of this confusion, the shotgun roared to life. As the thunder filled the air, pellets struck the pony, but Woodcock and Phar Lap both escaped injury. Just a single shot was fired before the car sprinted away. Fours days later Phar Lap would go to the post as the shortest priced favourite to ever compete in a Melbourne Cup. To this day, nobody knows whether the Red Terror was the victim of an attempted killing, or whether the the perpetrators were out to just do enough damage to see the horse withdrawn from the Cup. The support for the horse had been huge. So strong was the onslaught, that even four months out from the event, anyone wanting to put on their hard earned, had to accept an odds on offer. Everybody and his dog wanted to be on the seventeen hand colossus. Despite the fact that the horse was being asked to carry fifteen pounds above weight for age, he would start the race carrying not just the few shillings of those struggling to survive the Great Depression, but the hearts of a nation who's unemployment rate stood at a staggering thirty percent. Immediately after the shotgun incident, Harry Telford, Phar Lap's trainer, sought protection for the champion. The horse was quickly whisked to St. Albans Stud, near Geelong, some fifty miles away. There, with police supervision, he went into hiding. On the day of the race, Phar Lap was boxed at around noon. Then with two police motor cycle escorts, he made his way to the course, arriving about an hour and a half before start time. His stall was cordoned off by a ring of police which included a couple of detectives. These activities though, did not stop a sea of humanity from trying to get a peek at their hero, from a respectful distance. Cup day had seen the champion arrive with seven successive wins under his belt. The Red Terror had swept through the year like a runaway bush fire. He's put last year's Melbourne Cup winner Nightmarch to the sword in four straight defeats in Sydney. He then won the AJC Plate before beginning his present Melbourne raid. He stepped straight into the Cox Plate. They didn't see which way he went. He took out the Melbourne Stakes on the opening day of the Autumn carnival, his final run before Tuesday's race. The scene was now set for the showdown. The night before the race, a violent thunder storm had descended upon Melbourne, causing much damage throughout the city. The skies opened, greatly affecting the track. Come race day, weather wise, conditions were abysmal. A bitter wind came howling in off the ocean, bringing with it, heavy squalls of ever lengthening duration. There was no escaping the downpour. Even those seeking shelter in the grandstand were forced to succumb to the sheeting menace, as it lashed it's way up under the eaves. Then as though the Gods had decided to look favourably on the proceedings, the sun suddenly broke through, just in time for the running of the Cup. The silence as the field went to the start, was rather eerie. If ever a horse was going to get home on the will of the people, Phar Lap was that horse. Few asked who was going to win, most only wanted to know how the Red Terror would handle the massive impost, on the heavily deteriorated surface. Once they were let loose, Jim Pike hustled the big red horse into a handy position. So well did he do, that on turning out of the straight the first time around, he had Phar Lap nestled away on the fence in fifth or sixth place. From there, the Red Terror didn't spend a penny in transit. Pike eased the horse off the rail as they raced toward the bend, went around the tiring leader and switched back to the fence. He then set the giant striding champion on his merry way, as they flattened out for the run home. To the utter joy of his now delirious admirers, who it must be said, were thick on the ground, Phar Lap began to spread-eagle the field. With giant, ground consuming strides, he thundered his way down the Flemington straight, and into Australian equine immortality. He is now well and truly enmeshed in the fabric of Australian society. Even today, nearly eighty years after his tragic demise, the name Phar Lap instils in most, a sense of awe and wonder. He is revered. After his thumping win in the 1930 Melbourne Cup, Phar Lap had gone on a rampage through the following season, making a mess of anything that stood in his way. He marched on through the year on his way to his final race in Australia, the 1931 Cup. So dominant had he been, the powers that be decreed that seeing that he'd strung together some fourteen wins from fifteen starts in the lasts two seasons, he'd be lumped with a mammoth 10.10 for the great race, twelve pounds more than the weight he'd carried the year before. As the race drew nearer, both trainer Harry Telford and U.S. owner David Davis grew more and more apprehensive about starting the horse. But the pressure was enormous. The race field had fallen away to just fourteen competitors, and the last thing that the big boys wanted, was to have the champion scratched from an already weakened event. So it was, that after consultation with committeemen and stewards, they reluctantly decided to sent the horse around. The old saying says that weight stops trains...it stopped Phar Lap. The bottom weight, White Nose, carrying just 6.12 proved too good on the day. Of the seven who finished in front of him, the closest to him in weight was Veilmond who carried 8.13 into fifth place. A couple of others bore 7.7 and 7.2. With the exception of WFA events, Phar Lap's career in Australia had been forced to a stand still. He'd won 32 of his last 35, starting favourite in all. Mr. Davis had bigger fish to fry though. He wasn't content with having the greatest galloper Australasia had ever seen, he wanted a world beater. As far as he was concerned, he and his champion were going to sweep through America, then duck across the Atlantic and stick it to the locals over there. First stop, was Caliente in Mexico, from where an invitation to compete in the world's richest race, the 10 furlong Agua Caliente, had come. Phar Lap was within a stones throw of the world prize money record held by U.S champ Sun Beau, who held a narrow advantage over the great French galloper Ksar. A win in Mexico would leave him just short of the record, and that, as far as his owner was concerned, was a minor problem. It was just a matter of time before Phar Lap stood alone.
