BLAST FROM THE PAST
LEN BUTTERFIELD: Chief Stipendiary Steward
 LEN BUTTERFIELD
You can still find Len Butterfield at the races. Not in splendid isolation as he used to be, because 12 years have gone by since he retired from the solitary job as chief stipendiary steward with the Harness Racing Conference.
As much as anything else in his twilight years, he enjoys getting on the track and meeting the people who love their horses. He arrives with the same tall and regal bearing, and a hat always a hat, which used to be compulsory gear for Conference stewards.
At 77, racing is just one of his retirement interests. He plays his golf at the upmarket Russley club, where he says his handicap is "very competitive," he has his bowls and he likes to get into the garden.
No different to most industry people, he likes hearing the latest story on what's going on; for instance..."this bicarbonate business, interesting to see how that goes...In my mind if anyone returns a positive, and this is what this is, then out they go." Since his retirement at the age of 65, Butterfield often reflects on the changes in the conditions and demands of a stipes job. "It's luxury compared with what it was like when I started, with Fred Beer."
Butterfield was 32 when he took the position as a stipendiary steward. He knew all about horses. He rode work at Addington, where his father, Arthur, was a prominent trainer, winning big races with such good horses as Acron, Agathos, Glenelg and Lady Scott; Agathos won the NZ Cup in 1924.
He was a natural sportsman, shining especially at cricket, representing New Zealand, though he has been a success at anything he has taken up. He was first employed in the plumbing trade, which he didn't like, and then joined the New Zealand Trotting Association as a deputy stipendiary steward, joining Beer and Jack Shaw. In those days, there was a lot of travel, in trains and buses, and the odd plane ride. We would go down to Oamaru on the day before the races, and catch the express on the way back, getting into the station about 8pm.
"And when we went to the Coast to do the trots on a galloping day, I would catch the 2:20am railcar on Saturday morning, which got us in about 7am that morning. Then I would be on the 6pm railcar back, which got in at about 11pm. When we went to Westport, we'd get off at Stillwater, have breakfast at the railway station, and wait for an hour and a half for the railcar up from Ross." The Coast trips were a test of stamina. On one trip, by car on the gravel road, the fog was so thick over the Pass that Conference handicapper Arthur Neilson was sent forward on foot with a torch to see where they were going.
Another 'luxury' he didn't have for many years was a race film. "In my day there was no camera, so I had to become an expert in race reading. You had to depend on evidence, and you had to know if anyone was telling lies. The drivers often tried to look after one another. I'd get to know their colours. I'd have my book, pencil and glasses and I wouldn't take my eyes off the race while I was writing something down. These days, if they miss anything during the race they can soon check up by watching the film."
The NZ Cup won and lost by Stella Frost was a case when there was no official film, though there was an unofficial one he was able to make use of. "'Doody' Townley had eased off the fence, and some of the horses behind had been squeezed up. If there was a fall someone had caused it. It was a serious matter, and eventually the horse was put out. At the inquiry it was like getting blood out of a stone. Much later, when I spoke to the Balclutha OTB, I stayed with Len Tilson, he owned Stella Frost; it was nice of him to ask me to stay with him."
A stipendiary steward can be a lonely job, though Butterfield said the responsibility never worried him. "The Devine-Litten whipping case in 1957 was the biggest I had, and I was the only one to see it start. The funny thing was the patrol steward didn't see it. I said to him 'that is bloody lovely, you should not be out there if you can't see.' I never really found out who moved first; I suspect what happened but you could never prove it. George Noble, who was right behind them, was swinging both ways so I had no evidence. The difficulty was that I had to do it on my own. It went on to late in the night, and the phone at home never stopped ringing."
Butterfield said he found most trainers and drivers took their penalties well. "Ted Lowe got two years on a positive, shook hands later and said 'you've got a job to do.' Cecil Donald was the same. I disqualified a horse of his from the Timaru Cup - I think it was Chief Command - and he appealed. He told the late Peter Mahon that he had to win the case because I was taking thousands of dollars off him and I had to be straightened out. I always admired old Donald. He would have 20 to 30 horses in work, three stallions, cattle and a dairy farm, and he'd be up and on the phone at 5am getting business done."
Butterfield has a deep admiration for some of the top horses that raced when he was younger, particularly Highland Fling. "I've seen nothing faster. He'd go from last to first in a furlong and a half." He had great respect for the likes of Young Charles, Johnny Globe, Chamfer, Soangetaha and Vedette who all raced in the same era. "You had to admire those horses when you look back. Take Acron. He ran a mile at Addington in 1924 in 2:03.6, he never pulled a wide sulky, went on the clay and was never near the fence. Tracks these days can make horses better than they are. As far as grass tracks went, New Brighton was the best in New Zealand; it was like a lawn."
Butterfield sat on many swabbing cases, and made a study of drugs and how they affect horses. "We don't want people in the game if they're corrupt. I remember having a case once where a horse has returned a positive to caffeine, and the trainer said the horse had drunk a lot of tea. So I went round there one morning and he offered me a cup of tea. I said I wouldn't have one but we'll make one for the horse. Well, he wasn't too keen about that, but we filled up a bucket and took it out to him. He just snorted and wouldn't touch it. The chap got two years."
Like everyone else with the welfare of the industry at heart, he sees the decline in attendances as a worry, and like everyone else, knows the lack of good handicappers is caused by huge stakes now available for two and three-year-olds. "It is common to try those young horses out to see if they can win that money and there are so many more trials for these horse. It's easy to burn them out." He has no answer to why crowds aren't as big as they used to be. "There were top horses at the Easter meeting at Addington, but there wasn't a big crowd. Why is it?"
Still with his good health, Len Butterfield will continue to show a fatherly interest in the family sport.
Credit: Mike Grainger writing in HRWeekly 8May91
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