It was my first visit to Sydney and it took place soon after my arrival in Australia in the wake of the Second World War.

It happened to be the first Tuesday of November and for me it was just another day, as I had not even the slightest idea of its significance.

I knew only that this was a day of late Australian spring and saw that it could not be better as far as weather was concerned.

The big, bustling city impressed me by the lack of any signs of scars caused by the big war, so common to the cities of Europe, especially of Germany. It was a city completely untouched by the recently ended holocaust; everything was here as if the great war with its devastations had taken place on some other planet.

This city also impressed me by its endless torrents of people and cars streaming in all directions with such a persistence that it tended to make an unaccustomed person dizzy, all the more so as there were no traffic lights. The rivers of cars moved non stop and pedestrians, crossing the streets, had to jump with the agility of frogs past the front of vehicles which took little notice of them.

The overall impression was that this was a city where everyone was in a hurry and where nobody was able to take it easy even to such an extent as to slow down for a single moment.

We — that is myself and my companion — had visited some shops and offices in the centre of the city and then caught a tram to go to a suburb.

On the way there we could not stop feeling a kind of awe at the picture of people determinedly hurrying along the streets our tram followed, rambling and swaying like a ship in the stormy sea.

Then something unexpected happened.

The tram stopped all of a sudden and the passengers, headed by the driver and conductor, rushed out and ran across the street. At the same moment all traffic in the street stopped as well. People emerged from their cars and rushed towards the buildings leaving the vehicles unattended. Pedestrians who seconds before were rushing forward as if possessed, stopped all of a sudden as if at the strike of a magic wand, and then dispersed in all directions, mostly towards some tall buildings.

In a few seconds the street was deserted and there was no traffic at all.

We did not know what to think of it. It was like a scene during an air alarm in the German cities during the war, when all traffic would suddenly come to a standstill at the ominous howling of sirens and people would rush to airshelters, leaving the streets deserted.

We were at a loss to understand what was the matter. Had it happened in anticipation of an air-raid? If so, by whom? It was, however, impossible to imagine who would be able to do so. Besides, it was the time of peace. Still there was no other way to explain what had happened, although there were neither sounds of sirens, nor any other audible or visible warning. Neither conductor had said even a single word while rushing out of the tram. We were just unable to find any sensible explanation, and there was nobody to ask for it, because all passengers, besides us, had quickly left the tram as if by some mysterious command we had omitted to notice.

We Made up our minds to stay in the tram and to wait for the outcome of the commotion, although we realized that in the case of an air-raid we were exposing ourselves to an unnecessary danger. Nevertheless we were reluctant to follow the mob without knowing the reason for what we thought was panic.

From our vantage point we watched, with a sense of alarm, the scene unfolding in the street.

We saw that some people had disappeared in the tall buildings, some into pubs and some had gathered in front of shops listening to loudspeakers conveying some kind of message to which they listened with an unusual intensity but which we were unable to hear. The only thing we could understand was that the message obviously was of a great importance, all the more so as it was conveyed with an ususually excited, high-pitched voice in the dramatic manner goods are sometimes offered in the country fairs of Europe.

We noticed that our conductor was standing in front of one of the nearest shops listening like bewitched. The sight of him had a somewhat pacifying influence on us.

Then, all of a sudden, the reverse scene took place. The crowds of people emerged, as if by some command, from the tall buildings and pubs, and began quickly moving in all directions. Those, who were standing in front of the shops, detached themselves from their positions all at once and began moving in the same manner. People, who had left their cars, returned running to them, and the passengers of our tram, with the uniformed conductor and driver prominent among them, stormed back with the same speed and determination as with which they had left a few minutes before. Again, nobody took the slightest notice of us, just as while leaving the tram.

In a few seconds everything was like it had been before the interruption. The people on both sides of the street were again hurrying along as if no moment could be spared; the cars were again in motion, signalling madly, and the tram was rolling ahead, swaying and rumbling, as it had done before. Everything was just as it had been before the unexplainable interruption.

"What was the reason for all this commotion?" we asked the conductor, who passed by in the course of his duties.

The conductor looked at us with astonishment mixed with distain.

"What?" he asked, looking at us as if we were persons from the moon. "You bloody New Australians don't even know that it is Melbourne Cup Day!"

And he went past without bothering to explain the matter in more understandable terms.

An elderly man sitting next to us kindly volunteered to explain the matter.

"You see," he said. "this is the day of great horse races in Melbourne for the famous Melbourne Cup. The tram stopped to give us all an opportunity to listen outside to the results of the main event. Melbourne Cup races are the greatest in this country."

Now we were at last able to understand what was the matter.

"Are all people really so eager to know which horse would win the race?" we asked.

"Not really so," he answered. "People are interested mainly whether the horse they have put a bet on would win. Everyone in this blessed country of ours bets before these races on some horse or takes part in some sweeps, so that everybody is eager to know whether his horse has got a place

"Has anybody in this tram had a good win?" we asked naively.

"Seemingly not," answered the kind man, "because nobody is talking about it. We forget, you see, the Melbourne Cup the very moment we learn that we have won nothing."

This was our introduction to the great event of the Melbourne Cup, which seems to be not only the most important annual racing event in Australia but something elevated to the level of a cult or religion.

As I later learned, nothing is so important in Austalia as the Melbourne Cup, which is the main theme of conversation as well as the main topic of newspapers' news and articles for many days beforehand.

In the following years I had many opportunities to observe the behaviour of people on the Melbourne Cup days in factories and offices. It was the same everywhere.

On the eve of that important day, as well as on its morning, the lists of people taking part in the sweeps used to be composed by the persons with a trait of leadership. Then a solemn ceremony in respect of every list would take place. Then names of persons participating in each sweep would be written on the slips of paper which would be folded up and placed in a hat. The same would be done with the names of horses participating in the race which names would be put into another hat.

A trusted man would thereafter be invited to perform the most important part of ceremony; while the initiator of the sweep would take, from one of the two hats, a slip of paper with the name of one of the participators in the sweep, and read it loudly, the trusted man would take from the other hat a slip with the name of a horse and unfold it. The name of the horse would be written on the list opposite the name of the person who got it.

This ceremony was usually performed somewhere in the corner of the factory or the office out of sight of the bosses and without the participation of the crowd as it did not belong to the sacrosanct part of the event when all were allowed to lay down their tools or pens. Only a few witnesses were allowed to participate.

Following the draw of horses, the sweep-master would make a round of participating people and tell them which horse each one of them had got.

There was always a lot of swearing by people who had got horses not considered as winners. Their enthusiasm tended to cool noticeably off, for there was too small a chance that any such horse would win the race or even come to the second or third place. Still everything is possible in the horse races, so that they did not lose all their interest, and as the number of persons taking part in every sweep had to be limited to the number of horses, there were many sweeps; some people also participated in more than one sweep so that they were interested in more than one horse. Besides, the sweeps were only a top of the iceberg. In addition to the sweeps, there were bettings with the unofficial bookmakers, of which there was at least one in every place of employment, for bigger sums of money than it was the case with sweeps. And, finally, many used to put their bets outside their place of employment with official bookmakers, so that interest towards the result of races was great and manyfold.

Then, when the all-important moment arrived, all people downed their tools, all machines stopped working, all actions ceased. All people hurried to the places where there was a wireless set brought by someone from home for this occasion (there were no portable sets yet in use). Factories and offices became deserted with only some indifferent immigrant working, who was invariably frowned at, as such white crows were considered the traitors to a good cause.

No matter how strict or narrow-minded were the bosses in every place of employment and how little freedom they otherwise were ready to allow to their workers, in this case it was unimaginable that anyone of them would dare to interfere, preventing workers or office people to stopping their work and gathering around the wireless sets. As a matter of fact, all of them, from the cleaner to the director, did just the same, for it amounted to a religious ceremony in which all should — and had the right — to participate. The difference was only in the company in which the higher people gathered, for birds of feather used to stick together.

The rank and file people stood in groups in their own company in various places of the factory or office, listening in awe to the voice of the announcer. As the race progressed and the voice of announcer became louder and faster, and was more and more charged with excitement, rising gradually to a high pitch, the excitement of listeners grew likewise, becoming towards the end of the race almost unbearable for those with weak hearts.

When at last the climax would arrive and the announcer would tell of the result of the race with a voice breaking from excitement, most people would spit in disgust or swear, or do both, or at least make with their hand a gesture of resignation. Then all would hurry at the same time to the places of their work and in a few moments all work and business would be on the way as before the break, and almost nobody would talk-of the Melbourne Cup any more.

While seeing from year to year the spectacle of the work in whole factories and offices coming suddenly to a standstill, I always wondered how surgeons performing operations in the hospitals were acting at such moments. Would they, too, stop their operations and hurry with their assistants to listen to the result of races? It was, of course, ridiculous to imagine a surgeon doing so, but as one could not imagine that somebody in Australia would work at such a sacred moment, I assumed that no operations were arranged for that time.

This was how the working people used to celebrate the Melbourne Cup. The rich or independent people would go to Melbourne and bet on the spot for big sums of money. Even many ordinary people would take a few days off on account of their annual leave and go to Melbourne to be in the centre of the event and to place all they have on their favourite horses.

Most of them would come back completely broke and their first concern upon return to their place of employment would be to try to borrow, until the next payday, some money from their mates. Still, on the following year they would not be any wiser. They would do the same thing again with mostly the same result.

And it is interesting that not one of them would admit that he had lost. The same thing applies to any loser at any of the horse races which take place every Saturday in every self-respecting place of Australia.

If asked whether they had won something, they would answer: "I got some back!"

David Marquis

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