Hamish McLachlan: Jockey Johnny Letts on his Melbourne Cup win, prostate cancer diagnosis and almost becoming quadriplegic
South Australian jockey Johnny Letts hasn’t been afraid of getting back on the horse. He tells Hamish McLachlan about his Melbourne Cup win, fears he’d become quadriplegic and his battle with prostate cancer.
Victoria
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Johnny Letts grew up with very little, left school early and, because of his size, chose to become a jockey. He rode a winner on his first day at the races, and won the Melbourne Cup on his first visit to Flemington. He had a fall and was injured so badly he was told he wouldn’t walk again.
He spoke about failing at school, interviewing jockeys with language barriers, beating his idol, and being told he had prostate cancer.
HAMISH: Lettsy, what was it like to grow up in Brompton as a kid?
JOHNNY: It was a high-class slum area in Adelaide to be honest, Hamish. I was there with my mum and dad and my grandparents. We didn’t have anything at all.
HM: Were you living with your parents or your grandparents?
JL: I was living with my parents, and then my parents went down to Port Adelaide, and I wanted to stay with my grandparents. The reason for that, Hamish, was that my grandmother never made me go to school on Mondays! I went to the Brompton Infant School, and I was a bit of a scallywag. Then I went to Brompton Primary, but I didn’t want to go there, so my grandparents took me out and put me into a school in Bowden, which is a little higher-class than what Brompton was. I was there for about a month. It was a Catholic school, and they found out I wasn’t Catholic, so I got the boot! Then I went to a school down towards Port Adelaide back towards Mum and Dad. I went to Seaton, Hendon, Alberton, La Fevre Tech …
HM: … any schools you missed?
JL: Not many! A teacher there, Mr Manning, said to me, “What are you going to do when you leave school?”
I said, “I don’t know, Mr Manning. I haven’t discussed it with my parents, but I seem to be going OK with my tests, and my education — I always get an F … that means fair, doesn’t it?”
HM: (laughs) Not exactly.
JL: He said to me, “One day I was marking your report card, and one of the questions was, ‘What year was Sydney discovered?’ ” This student alongside me wrote, “I don’t know”. I wrote down, “I don’t know, either”. He suggested I become a jockey.
HM: You took his advice?
JL: I was 14 but had never been on a horse, but oddly enough, I didn’t dismiss it. I actually said to my best mate, “I might become a jockey”. He said, “Good idea, why don’t we go to the parklands and jump on a horse?” So we did, and there was this horse standing along the fence, so I climbed up on the fence and jumped on the horse’s back. It had no saddle, no bridle, and off it trotted. When I came back, I said to my mate, “I felt really good on there”.
HM: On the back of that one ride and Mr Manning’s off-the-cuff comment, you left school and headed to Jack Canavan’s stables?
JL: That’s right. He was a very good horseman. He taught me everything he knew about horses before he taught me how to ride. I was very lucky. I was taken in like a part of the family, I lived in the house, and I grew up as one of his sons.
HM: How long was it before the stewards gave you a licence?
JL: We had to go to apprentice school every Monday night, and I had 10 rides in barrier trials and won nine of them. When I went into the stewards, in those days, they’d measure your hands, they’d measure your feet, and they’d put you on the scales. I said to the stewards, “I’d like my licence”. They said, “We’ll give you a licence, but there are conditions. You’re not allowed to carry a whip, and you can’t wear spurs.” I said, “Just let me carry the whip, I won’t pull the whip in the horse, but just carry it.” “No whip, no spurs, and you ride in the country for a year.” Fair enough.
HM: Who was your first ride?
JL: A horse called Port Walk. He was a thousand-pound steeplechaser, a big horse. Here I was, four stone five. My first ride in a race was at a place called Snowtown.
HM: I didn’t know Snowtown had a track.
JL: It’s no longer. On the morning of the race, you always used to sprint your horses a furlong early in the day — it was like flicking a switch, that switches the mind to say, “You’re going to the races today!” My boss said, “Take him around to Colin Hayes’ track. Trot him around the road, sprint him up the furlong, and then bring him home and we’ll get ready for the races.”
HM: How did you go?
JL: He pulled like a steam train. I couldn’t stop him! After two miles, he finally decided to stop. I thought, I’ve ruined my first day of riding, we’ll have to scratch him. I walked him home through the sand hills in Semaphore, and when we got home, he started to breathe normally, and he’d stopped sweating. We walked him in the water, and when I walked in the gate of the stables, my boss said, “How did he feel?” I said, “He was pretty keen, boss”. We then went to the races, and I had my first ride, and I ran third. I thought it was fabulous. I came in and the boss said, “Do you think he could race again today?” Back then, if you wanted to race the same horse twice on the one day, you could. I said, “I don’t think another run would hurt him today, boss.”
HM: Different times ….
JL: Very. My boss said, “I want you third on the fence, and when you get to the half mile, I want you to sneak away from them.” He told me everything to do in that race, but he hadn’t spoken to the horse! I jumped, and the horse bolted with me again! The horses behind me then caught up to me and I heard this voice, “Get off the fence, son”, so I moved off the rail. Then there was another voice yelling at me “Get back on that fence son!”. This repeated for the rest of the race, I just kept going from off the fence to on the fence until I won at 33-1, without a whip!
HM: And you beat your idol doing so …
JL: I beat my mentor and idol, Jimmy Johnson. I didn’t care if I never had another ride in a race, I’d beaten JJ! He’s 92 years of age now, and he’s still going great. I went back into the jockey’s room, and Jimmy Johnson said to me, “I want to see you, son, before you leave”. He came over and said, “You know why you won the last race?” I said, “Mr Johnson, I suppose I was on the fastest horse?” He said, “Did you hear that guy telling you to get off the fence down the back? That was Peter Kelly. Did you hear that other bloke telling you to get back on it?” I said, “Yes.” “That was me. You were on the fence, then off the fence, then on the fence, then off the fence — we couldn’t get around you!”
HM: That was in the 1959-60 season. You went on to win the Adelaide Cup in 1968 on Rain Lover, and by then you were one of the best jockeys in the country. Were you unlucky to not keep the ride on Rain Lover in the Melbourne Cup that year?
JL: The Melbourne Cup is the top of the tree — the excitement’s there, everyone wants it — but my ambition at that stage, being an Adelaide boy, was to win an Adelaide Cup. I won the Adelaide Cup on Rain Lover in 1968, and when I came in after the race, his trainer Grahame Heagney said, “You’re riding this horse in the Melbourne Cup”. I’d never thought I would get a ride in the Melbourne Cup. He said, “You’ll win on him.” But suddenly the horse was transferred to Micky Robins when Grahame left to train in the US, and Jimmy Johnson was Micky’s jockey. Jimmy rode him in the Melbourne Cup. Can you imagine how I felt when he won the Melbourne Cup in ’68 by eight lengths?
HM: He went back to back, and then two years later, you had your first ride in the Melbourne Cup on Piping Lane.
JL: I’d never heard of Piping Lane, but I’d heard of George Hanlon. I never met the owners of the horse, but I got a phone call six days before the Melbourne Cup in 1972 from the managing owner. “Hello, is that John Letts?” “Yes.” “Have you got a ride in the Melbourne Cup?” I said, “No, I haven’t, sir, I’ve never even been to Flemington before!”
HM: Had you been to Victoria?
JL: I’d been to Victoria, but never to a city meeting. My life’s ambition was to ride in the Melbourne Cup and feel 100,000 people at Flemington, and the world, watching on! The man said, “We’ve got a horse called Piping Lane.” I thought it was a friend of mine being smart after a few drinks! I said, “Listen, I haven’t taken a ride yet, but I’m waiting on Bart Cummings, Colin Hayes and Tommy Smith to all ring me”.
HM: How did the owner take that?
JL: He was a little taken aback! Of course, I took the ride. I’d never heard of Piping Lane — he was a Tasmanian horse — but I did some quick research. Then I went on Adelaide Tonight and the interviewer, Barry Ion, said, “John, you’ve got a ride in the Melbourne Cup on Tuesday, do you know the horse?” I said, “I know everything about him, Barry”. I said, “He’s won over this distance, that distance, at this type of track, he drew this barrier last start!” Then he asked me “What’s his name?” I said, “Palace Lane”.
HM: Not ideal …
JL: No ideal. I’d never seen the horse, I didn’t know how the horse liked to be ridden, I hadn’t met the owner, and I hadn’t met the trainer! I went over to Harry White on Cup Day and I said to Harry, “How do you ride at Flemington?” He said, “When you jump out, just try and find the rail, then go to sleep until you get to Chiquita Lodge.”
HM: That was your total direction going into the Cup?
JL : That’s right. I walked away after thanking Harry, not knowing what, or where, Chiquita Lodge was! I assumed it was a big 30-level hotel. I walked out onto the track for the first time, and every other horse got a clap and a cheer except for number 16. No one knew the horse or the jockey. I’m a great fan of Roy Higgins, who was one of the best of all time, and he was on a champion called Gunsynd. He’d drawn barrier 10, and I was in 11. I thought, “Roy will have him in a good spot, I’ll just be one step behind him and go at Chiquita Lodge”. Gunsynd was the only grey horse in the race, so I couldn’t miss him.
HM: How did the plan go?
JL: Horribly. For the first time in his life, Gunsynd missed the jump and I was in front of him! We went along, and I kept looking up to see a big sign that said “Chiquita Lodge”. I got down to the 1800m, looked up, nothing there. 1600m, no hotel there either. 1500m, nope, not there. I got down to the 1200m, and it wasn’t there either. I thought, I know they do things quickly in Victoria, but to pull down a building that big the night before the Cup is impossible! I later found out Chiquita Lodge was a one-story stable block!!!
HM: (laughs) When did you take off for home?
JL: When Roy took off on Gunsynd. He came up outside of me, and I thought, there’s the grey horse, “I’m off too!” There were 12 other jockeys with the same plan! We turned for home, and I was running about 11th. I thought, “How good’s this — I’m going to finish halfway through the field in a Melbourne Cup!” I was 10th, then 9th, 8th, 7th … before eventually, only one horse, Magnifique, was in front of me. She slowed up, and I went on past and I won the Melbourne Cup!
HM: A life-changer …
JL: It’s a surreal feeling for a jockey.
No one knew me on the way out to the track, but when I came back, everybody along that fence knew me. One of the greatest quotes in racing was from Greg Miles about Makybe: “A champion becomes a legend.” You don’t have to go in as a champion, but you do come out as a legend.
HM: And doors open.
JL: There are so many stories out of Melbourne Cups, not involving myself, but other jockeys. Damien Oliver was fantastic on Media Puzzle; that day was something that we all prayed for. Makybe won her third Melbourne Cup — Glen Boss’s life was never the same. I was on my pony, Banjo, and I went around and picked him up. I said, “You’ve done it”. He was too emotional to respond, he was crying. And of course, the other is when I had to interview the Japanese jockey winning on Delta Blues.
HM: “Happy.”
JL: He couldn’t speak a word of English, and I couldn’t speak a word of Japanese!
HM: Did you contemplate it happening?
JL: I looked through the field early on, and all the jockeys could speak English. Then, a week before the race, they take Nash Rawiller off Delta Blues, and they put Yasunari Iwata on. I thought to myself, “A Japanese horse can’t win the Melbourne Cup, I won’t have to worry about that!” When he arrived, he had five interpreters, that jockey! When I am on the horse on course, I have the earphone in the ear in connection with Bruce McAvaney and the boys in the production trucks. I just had this feeling, and as I’m going to the barriers, I say, “Boys, just in case the Japanese jockey does win the Melbourne Cup, does anyone know any Japanese?” One guy says down the line, “I know a couple, Lettsy. Sayonara and Konichiwa”. I could hear the race until about 20m to the line, and I’m hearing the race bottle down to the two Japanese horses: Delta Blues, and Damien Oliver on Pop Rock. “They get down to the 100m, and Delta Blues is in front. Pop Rock’s gone up on the outside to join him. Japan’s going to fight out the Melbourne Cup. Ollie’s gone for the whip on Pop Rock.” I’m thinking to myself, “Get there Ollie, get there!” The next thing I hear Greg say is, “Delta Blues has hung on”. I then canter over to Yasunari for the interview and I said, “Happy?” He said, “Happy?” I said, “Winner?’ He said “Winner.” I said, “He’s good!” And he said, “Good? He’s a champion!” And he took off. That was it!
HM: You won the Cup in ’72, again in ’80 for a famous name — CS Hayes. In ’74 you had a bad fall in Gawler. Did you wake up to the news that you were going to be a quadriplegic?
JL: I was riding in Gawler in the last race of the day, and I was running third on the fence. The horse in front, which is something that I’ve never known to happen, dropped dead and I ended up underneath a horse. I went over the top. Michael Domingo was one of the jockeys that rode in the race with me, and Michael said to me when he came into the hospital, “Do you know how lucky you are? Six fell, one horse was dead, and you were under it”. I still don’t know how I got there. I’d stopped breathing, and the ambulance guy said to Michael, “I don’t like your mate’s chances”.
HM: Your mum was given tough news in hospital.
JL: I went into the paraplegic ward at the Royal Adelaide. The doctor said to Mum, “He’s a quadriplegic. From the neck down, he’ll never be able to walk again.” I squeezed my mother’s hand when he said it. He said, “At best, he’ll be a paraplegic.” I was there for six months.
HM: But you defied the odds. Is it wise to wear a surgical collar to Caulfield?
JL: It is! I was in Melbourne in rehabilitation, and I went to the Caulfield Races. The doctor had said, “You’ll never ride again, but you might be able to get on a pony in two years.”
I was standing by the betting ring, and I had this surgical collar on when a guy ran past me, and he accidentally clipped me on the jaw. My neck had been like a rusty bolt. I fell to the ground, and my friend picked me up because he’d heard the crack. I stood up, and was able to turn my head left and right for the first time in six months! I hadn’t been able to move it at all! I said, “Grab that bloke and give him $100”. My mate said, “$100?” I thought for a moment — we’d been losing on the punt. “Good point — give him $10!”. And I’ve never had any problems with it since — he was like a Godsend to me. He still to this day wouldn’t know what he did for me!
HM: First ride back?
JL: It was at Cheltenham. I rode a horse called Red Camellia, and I won. The crowd clapped me all the way back. That is what racing and life is about!
HM: From all of your racing days, and ups and downs, had anything prepared you for what was to come in 2013?
JL: It hadn’t, Hamish. I went and had a blood test and there was a very minor sign that there might be an issue. My doctor said, “You’re going up to see Dr Andrew Fuller, and we’re going to do a couple more tests.” He did a test, and it was revealed that I had aggressive prostate cancer.
HM: And your world changed instantly.
JL: Everything gets put on hold. The youngest bloke he’s had was 37 years of age! I’m fine now, but if I can, I’d like to say it is most important that you do go in and have your tests — there’s nothing to it at all. When women go in for breast cancer tests, they go through more rigid testing than what we do. If you have family history, you should have the tests every year. I can’t stress it enough, because if I hadn’t had that test done, it might have got to a stage where the cancer got outside the prostate, and then it’s very, very hard to control.
HM: You were covering the Cup on Banjo in 2013. Who knew that you had it then?
JL: The only person that knew was Bruce McAvaney. I said to Bruce, “I won’t be back next year, Bruce — I’ve got a problem. This will be my last year”.
HM: It must fill you with pride to see racing and the Australian Prostate Centre teaming up to raise awareness.
JL: It’s important they do, Hamish. Speaking in racing terms, we have to beat this out of the barrier. People say to me, “How did you feel when you had it?” I’ll say, “You know something about prostate cancer? When I went away on holidays and I had it, it went with me. It didn’t stay at home and say, ‘We’ll just pick up from where we left off’. It goes with you.” It’s very important that people go and get tested.
HM: Are you cancer free now, Lettsy?
JL: I haven’t had a reading since 2013. I feel great! To all the men reading, don’t be embarrassed — just do it. It’s 30 seconds out of your life, but that 30 seconds could save it. Over 3000 men die of prostate cancer every year, and again, the youngest that my urologist has had was 37 — that is frightening. Go and have it done. I’ve had so many friends that have had it done and subsequently been diagnosed, but they’ve had the operation, and now, they’re living life fully again.
HM: Lettsy, you’re a wonderful man. Thank you for talking.
JL: Thank you, Hamish.
The Australian Prostate Centre is a medical facility like no other, uniting research, education, holistic treatment and support in a one of a kind, world class setting in Melbourne’s medical precinct. Improve your odds and the odds of those you love.
To find out more about getting checked or to support the Australian Prostate Centre in the race against prostate cancer visit: improveyourodds.com.au.
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