Butterflies on wheels: 24 to 30 June 1967

Kent were second in the table by the end of this week after a rain-induced draw against Northamptonshire and a strange game at the Oval that was a two-and-half-day funeral dirge before becoming an Iron Maiden gig on the last afternoon. The Times correspondent, John Silchester, was impatient with Kent’s “care-worn, over responsible” approach on the first day:

On the second day, on which only 173 runs were scored, Silchester was prepared to make the “dully difficult” pitch take its share of responsibility. Like his colleagues around the country, he was impressed by Norman Graham:

Set 250 to win, Surrey batted with an aggression absent in the game thus far, a triumph of “mind over marl” for Silchester. Edrich and Stewart put on 133 for the second wicket, taking Surrey to a position of 111 to win from 95 minutes with nine wickets left. But no other batsman reached double figures as Underwood’s slide-rule accuracy and variations of pace removed both partners and three of the rest as those nine wickets mustered just 38 between them. 

Who was this John Silchester, with his shrewd observation and pleasing phrases? Why had I not heard of him before? It should have been obvious given that Silchester was a Roman settlement just north of Basingstoke, the home town of John Arlott, who took the name as his Times identity, the Observer having exclusive use of his real name. As a disguise it was as effective as a comedy moustache. It was in January 1967 that The Times had started giving its correspondents a byline. For the best part of two centuries before that they had been anonymous. Has there ever been a better collection of cricket writers on one paper at one time than Woodcock, Gibson, Arlott and Thomson? It was in the following year that Arlott became the cricket correspondent of The Guardian, under his own name.

As we approached high summer county cricket was becoming more peripatetic. This week Peterborough, Colchester, Bournemouth, and Lydney were among the Championship venues. Gloucestershire played at Lydney, the other side of the Severn in the Forest of Dean from 1963 to 1969. At least by 1967 the Severn Bridge was in place; before then it would have taken a couple of hours to drive there from Bristol.

Gloucestershire have long been cricketing missionaries, taking their message to new places in the county and beyond. During my 19 years in Bristol I watched them play at home at eight grounds, one more than Kent home venues at which I have got out the binoculars and scotch eggs. Those eight include Moreton-in-Marsh (another long drive from Bristol, especially for the one ball of a 1991 Sunday League match that they got in before the rain came), Swindon (in the shadow of the main stand of Swindon Town FC), the Wagon Works and Archdeacon’s Meadow in Gloucester, and three grounds in Cheltenham. Beside the College, there was the Victoria Ground against the Indians in 1986 and the Dowty Arle Ground for a Benson and Hedges zonal game in 1992, both because of building work at Bristol.

The defeat of Surrey moved Kent to second in the Championship, four points behind Yorkshire, who had a game in hand. Leicestershire slipped to third, drawing against Somerset thanks to a fifth-wicket partnership of 148 between Barry Dudleston and Jack Birkenshaw. Dudleston made the first of his 32 first-class hundreds. Regular readers of My Life in Cricket Scorecards will know that Dudleston was to become my personal ski instructor almost two decades later, so commemorating his maiden century is the least I can do. No cricketer has had his name misspelled more often than Barry and The Times marked the occasion by doing so in two different ways; Duddleston in the headline and first two paras and Duddlestone thereafter. 

England won the second test in four days despite losing two half days to rain. A first innings of 386 was enough for a winning margin of an innings and 124. On paper they don’t look a bad side, with Pataudi, Wadekar, Borde and Hanumant Singh among the batsmen and the quartet of four great spinners. But they were mostly at the start of their careers and inexperienced in English conditions; having no fast bowlers worth the name didn’t help either.

In the wider world the big news story of the week was the trial of Mick Jagger, Keith Richard and others on drugs charges. Jagger was sentenced to three months for the possession of four pep pills (as they were called then) which he had purchased legally in Italy, but which it was technically illegal to bring into Britain. This spurred the editor of The Times, William Rees-Mogg (father of Jacob Rees-Mogg) to write his most famous leader “Who Breaks a Butterfly on a Wheel?” in which he stridently condemned the sentence.

Fifty years later, today’s Times features an interview with Jagger in which he describes that edition of The Times being delivered to his cell: “The Times was thrown through the slot in my cell door, and thudded and hit the concrete floor of my cell and I thought, ‘What the f*** is that?’ I thought, ‘Well, that’s nice, they’re delivering me The Times’.” A lovely story, but had Mick scanned the front page more carefully he would have read an account of his release from Brixton prison on bail the previous afternoon.

Wimbledon’s first week was in progress. It was the last amateur championship and the first British outside broadcast in colour. This was independent of the black-and-white coverage and required its own commentary, which was provided, rather bizarrely, by the DJ Keith Fordyce. 

David Dimbleby was a Panorama reporter in 1967, though this didn’t stop him writing to The Times in support of Israel, a freedom of expression that he and other BBC presenters do not have today.

Kent trip up at Grace Road: 27 May - 2 June 1967

Leicestershire v Kent 31 May - 2 June 1967

There is no sentence that can tell us more definitively how different things were in 1967 than that which follows. For several hours on Saturday 27 May and again on Bank Holiday Monday 29 May, the only thing on television in much of the Britain was County Championship cricket. BBC 1 had Middlesex versus Sussex from Lord’s. Most ITV regions showed the Roses Match from Old Trafford, while BBC Wales covered Glamorgan against Hampshire. BBC 2 did not open up until the evening, so it was county cricket or nothing.

In the event, on Saturday it was nothing, as the early summer deluge continued. No county cricket was played anywhere on Saturday. Most matches got going on Bank Holiday Monday, but the rain returned everywhere but Trent Bridge on Tuesday. Kent’s fixture at Edgbaston was washed away completely.

In the absence of any cricket to write about, John Woodcock devoted his Monday piece in The Times to an interview with Frank Woolley, holder for ever more of Kent’s first-class run scoring (47,868), appearance (764) and catching (773) records. Not forgetting 1,680 wickets, bettered only by Freeman, Blythe, Underwood and Wright. There were plenty of people around the Kent grounds in 1967 who had seen Woolley play, and he was always their favourite, not for the weight of the statistics, but because of the style in which he made his runs. Woolley was left-handed, and those who were still going strong when David Gower appeared said that he was the nearest they had seen. Woolley lived in Canada by this time, but returned reasonably often. I remember him sitting in the President’s tent one Canterbury Week in the late sixties, and there is a famous photo of Woolley, Ames and Cowdrey together in 1973, Kent’s three makers of a hundred hundreds.

 

Egged on by Woodcock, Woolley criticised the growing commercialisation of cricket, this at a time when advertising hoardings around the boundary were still a decade away on the Kent grounds. What would he have thought of logo-laden shirts and outfields?

There was more substance in his complaint about the slow scoring of the modern game, of which there was much evidence this week, notably at Grace Road where on the first day against Kent, Leicestershire squeezed 155 runs from the first 90 overs. Peter West’s report notes the arrival of drinks as the highlight of the first session (West’s piece is a rarity in that it records a dropped catch by Alan Knott).

This exercise in reliving 1967 is unapologetically nostalgic, but that is not the same as saying that cricket was better then. A torpor could quite easily possess proceedings then in a way rarely seen now. When was the last time you heard a slow hand clap? It was common enough then. A day’s County Championship these days is likely to be more reliably entertaining than it was fifty years ago (though uncovered pitches would be fun).

Kent lost the game because Leicestershire outdid them in the very qualities that had served them so well so far in 1967. Their pace attack of John Cotton (19 overs off the reel) and Terry Spencer was more dangerous than Graham and Sayer, and Jack Birkenshaw followed a hat-trick at Worcester by being Underwood’s equal.

Leicestershire’s other advantage was Tony Lock’s captaincy. Lock was lured back to English cricket from Perth by the offer of the captaincy at Grace Road. By 1967, his third season, he had brought about something of a renaissance (or perhaps simply naissance). Ray Illingworth completed the job, with five trophies in five years in the seventies. Meanwhile, Lock repeated the trick in the southern hemisphere, leading Western Australia to their first Sheffield Shield in twenty years. In 1967 he was still good enough for Peter West to describe him as the finest slow left-armer in the country, and was to be called up to join the MCC party in the Caribbean in the winter.

Earlier in the week, Leicestershire visited Worcester where 22 wickets fell on the Bank Holiday Monday. Off spinner Birkenshaw took his hat-trick as Worcestershire were dismissed for 91. Len Coldwell and Jack Flavell then bowled 35 overs between them (though not unchanged this time), taking nine wickets as Leicestershire gained a lead of 20, which Worcestershire overcame by the end of the day, though with the loss of two further wickets only for the rain to return on the third day.

I tweeted the result of the second XI match between Kent and Worcestershire at St Lawrence. It is not the intention to make this a regular feature unless something noteworthy occurred, but I was there for the first afternoon and remember two things about it. First, I collected the autographs of some Worcestershire players, including Joe Lister and Jim Standen. Lister was Worcestershire secretary. That one man could run the club and still find time to captain the second XI goes some way to refuting Woolley’s view of a game being overtaken by commercial interests. Lister went on to be secretary of Yorkshire during Boycott Civil War. Standen was the most distinguished of the dwindling band of footballer-cricketers, having kept goal at Wembley in winning West Ham teams in the FA Cup in 1964 and the European Cup Winners’ Cup in 1965. Another, Ted Hemsley—at that time Shrewsbury Town’s left back—was also in the Worcestershire team.

The other thing I recall was that I retrieved a ball that had been hit for four and returned it to the fielder, John Dye, something that, as a dweller of the upper decks of stands where possible, I have never done since, though I did once dive out of the way at Maidstone from a six that a braver man would have tried to catch. Glenn Turner made the highest score of the match, and I probably saw him do it, the first time I watched one of New Zealand’s finest.

The scorecard of that game reveals that batsman and former vice-captain Bob Wilson was in the Kent side, dropped from the first team for the first time in more than a decade. From then on he was a mere stopgap, and retired at the end of the season. I recall at Dover in late August somebody asking him if he was playing in the Gillette Cup Final a few days later, a question that even a child could spot as insensitive given that everyone knew that the answer was no.

Sgt Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band was released that week, and received an intelligent review in The Times.

The Summer of Love was not a universal phenomenon. The war in Vietnam raged on, the Middle East was about to explode and now Nigeria found itself on the brink of a civil war. The coastal province of Biafra seceded from the rest of the country this week, a decision that resulted in the Blue Peter Christmas appeal of 1968 being devoted to easing its children's starvation.